


dusk

by zeldasayre



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: M/M, Twilight AU, Vampires, this is. exactly what it looks like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 50,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldasayre/pseuds/zeldasayre
Summary: TWILIGHT AU. I'm so sorry
Relationships: Matteo Florenzi/David (Druck)
Comments: 195
Kudos: 283





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all. This is such a bad idea. I cannot believe I am doing this. I cannot believe no one is stopping me  
> Now that that's out of the way--  
> This isn't going to be, like, an exact retelling of Twilight. I'm following the plot loosely with LOTS of liberties in the name of 1. not being hugely problematic bc twilight is. so messy 2. making the story actually make sense for the druck characters and 3. doing what i Want
> 
> the biggest difference besides the obvious (characters, etc) is that there are going to be 0 werewolves in this. here's the thing. I don't wanna appropriate/villainize/dehumanize/fetishize an actual real life tribe that literally exists in the real actual world oh my GOSH stephenie meyer WOW. so yeah I'm just... not going there at all. Also there aren't even enough characters in druck and also also I hate love triangles
> 
> i have no idea if this will interest literally anyone besides myself. this is about to be a RIDE. farewell to my sanity, i cannot believe i am doing this. I hope you enjoy ! lgkhlkhglsdkhgkldhgslkh
> 
> p.s. does anyone want me to include a character chart in the notes? let me know, bc all the druck characters are going to parallel twilight characters-- i think it should be obvious who's who for the most part if you know twilight at all, but idk it might be a bit confusing so lemme know if u want that

If Atlantis existed, it couldn’t have been any more water-logged than Forks, Washington.

Matteo had always hated rain. It was one of the few traits he recognized in himself of his mother’s. She may have been louder, brasher, more irresponsible and flighty than himself, but they _both_ hated rain.

The choice to move here, though, was no one’s but his own.

Well. In a manner of speaking.

He wouldn’t be moving here if there were literally _any_ other way for him to allow his mom to go off and be happy with Phil, her new, minor-league-baseball-star husband. He’d even briefly considered going with them— becoming one of those not-an-actual-army-brat kids who just changes schools all the time. But, realistically, his credits would be a mess, and his actual education would be lacking, at best. If home-schooling was an option it might have worked. But his mom was… his mom. So home-schooling _wasn’t_ an option.

Matteo knew his dad was excited to have him. He did feel kind of bad about how little time they’d spent together the last few years. Just a few weeks the last two Junes, when they met up in LA, as opposed to the full summers he used to spend in Forks, until he got old enough to put his foot down.

He loved his dad. He just hated Forks. He _really_ hated Forks.

But he’d need to get over that. Because Forks was home, now. At least for the next two years.

He repeated that in his head, like a mantra. _It’s only a couple of years._ He could do plenty of unpleasant things for two years. He could probably quit smoking weed for a couple of years, if he tried. Although considering where he was going, it seemed likely he’d smoke more the next two years than he might for the rest of his life combined.

Charlie was near-silent beside Matteo in the police cruiser as they drove from the airport toward his house. Matteo hated being in the cruiser, but his dad was police chief in Forks, so this was, for the moment, his primary source of transportation. Matteo cringed at the thought. If kids at Forks High were politically aware in the least— and this was the Pacific North West, so he figured they might be, even if this _was_ a minuscule town— he’d make a horrible first impression, being dropped off in a police car. He sighed and shifted on the seat.

Charlie glanced over at him. _Dad_ , Matteo corrected himself in his head. Charlie would be devastated if Matteo ever called him by his first name out loud. It was a force of habit, though, having lived with Renee for so long. Charlie was just Charlie. Matteo loved him, but he hadn’t been raised by him. That was just the way it was.

Not that he’d really been _raised_ by Renee, either. He frowned down at the floor of the cruiser, thinking of Renee alone, without him there to cook for her, to take care of bills and cleaning and— but, he reminded himself, she had Phil now. It was fine.

It wasn’t really in Matteo’s nature to be the responsible one, but he also hadn’t really had a choice. If he hadn’t taken care of things, they just didn’t get done. He looked over at Charlie. Maybe things would be different, here. Charlie wasn’t used to having a kid around, but he _was_ a single, independent adult, and he’d managed this far. Something in Matteo relaxed, just a bit, at the thought that he might get to just… be a teenager, in Forks.

Not that Forks was his ideal place to be anything.

There was a truck in the driveway when they finally got to Charlie’s. “Is someone here?” Matteo asked, peering curiously back at the beat-up orange monstrosity as Charlie parked by the curb.

“Ah… no,” Charlie said. He let himself out of the cruiser without further explanation, so Matteo followed.

Charlie stopped halfway up the driveway, one of Matteo’s bags slung over either shoulder. He cleared his throat and indicated the truck with a nod. “I figured you might want alternate means of transportation,” he said, as if he’d read Matteo’s mind. “I know it’s a small town, but walking everywhere isn’t really an option.” This time he nodded up, toward the sky, already brimming with storm clouds. “And since I’ll be at work, I won’t be able to drive you everywhere.” He shifted awkwardly. “Do you like it?”

Matteo was floored. “Dad,” he said. “Seriously?” He strode over to the truck, examining the great beast like you might a sleeping dragon. “I love it. Thank you, dad— but you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, now.” Charlie cleared his throat, looking sheepish. “It wasn’t much. A friend of mine was trying to get rid of it, so. Practically free, really.”

_Completely_ free for Matteo. He was planning on pooling up money for a bike. This was _much_ better than a bike.

“Thanks, dad,” he said again. Charlie nodded stiffly and started up the driveway again. He’d never been able to accept gratitude or compliments or affection, in general, very well.

Charlie’s house hadn’t changed at all since the last time Matteo had been there— or since the first time Matteo had been there, really. It was like a shrine. He even had the framed photos from his and Renee’s wedding and honeymoon still sitting on the mantel, alongside all of Matteo’s school photos. It was seriously a bummer to look at.

Charlie led the way upstairs and dropped Matteo’s bags on the bed in his childhood room. His old rocking chair was still sitting the corner. He couldn’t help but grin a little at the sight.

“I hope the bedspread and everything is OK,” Charlie said, looking around. “If you want to replace anything—”

“It’s cool,” Matteo said.

“Great. Well.” Charlie shifted again. “We already got all your transcripts and everything transferred, so you can start at Forks High School tomorrow, if you’re ready. I can drive you, or you can take the truck.”

“I’ll take the truck,” Matteo said immediately. “Thanks.”

“Right.” Charlie loitered for no more than two seconds before nodding decisively and turning on his heel, to leave Matteo be.

He stopped at the last second and turned. “Oh. And. Your mother wanted me to tell you— I mean, and I, also— well, there’s a GSA at Forks High. If you wanted to…” He trailed off, and straightened. “I’m in PFLAG, already. They’re nice folks.”

Matteo cringed inwardly but gave his dad what he hoped was a grateful smile. “Thanks, dad. I’ll think about it.”

He would not think about it. He watched Charlie go and sat down on the bed with a sigh. For a second there he’d honestly forgotten that Charlie knew he was gay.

He hadn’t decided yet if he wanted to be out here. He was leaning towards no, though. He’d been out in Phoenix, and it’d been OK, for the most part, but it also hadn’t been his choice. It wasn’t like some ’80s movie horror-like outing, but it had happened without his knowledge or consent, and he didn’t want that, here. Besides, he had a feeling being the gay kid in a town like Forks would be a pretty solitary— and attention-grabbing— role. He just wanted to be Matteo. He wanted to be left alone. He didn’t have anyone to take care of, anymore. He wanted to smoke weed and play video games and not really bother with friends or dating or anything for the next two years. He’d be content to graduate from Charlie’s couch.

Matteo pulled out his phone and searched for the nearest dispensary. He could unpack later. It had started to rain already, and honestly, this couldn’t wait.

“I’m going out, dad,” he called as he jogged down the stairs.

“Where you headed?” Charlie called back, from the kitchen.

“Just gonna grab something from the store.” He paused, figuring he should add on to that, in case Charlie further pressed him on _which_ store he meant, (Renee’d always smoked with him, but he didn’t think Charlie would be quite so cool about it, and maybe that was for the best.) “Do you want me to grab anything?”

“Maybe some pasta. You like pasta, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Some pasta, then."

“Any particular kind?”

Charlie paused for a long enough beat to make Matteo think that cooking, at least, might still be up to him. Or maybe they’d just get a lot of takeout.

“Whatever you like,” Charlie said, at last. Matteo huffed a laugh under his breath. “There’s some money in the cookie jar.”

Matteo grabbed some of the cash and turned. “See you in a bit.”

He was soaked through by the time he got in the truck. He cranked up the heat and heaved a sigh, checking his pocket for his wallet— and his wallet for his fake ID— before crawling down the driveway, already wary of the wet road in the rain. But that, like everything else, was something he’d just have to get used to.


	2. Chapter 2

Forks High School looked more like an odd little neighborhood— maybe a retirement community or, like, a cult ground— than a school. Matteo parked his new truck, which rumbled and roared like Thor himself from the moment he started it until several moments after he’d killed the engine, in front of the administration office, relieved that he’d thought to come early, thus disturbing no one with the sheer volume of his arrival.

The office lady was friendly, and clearly knew Matteo was coming before he arrived. She handed him a campus map; all his classes were already highlighted, and a cramped, curly handwriting had left little notes in the margin, like he’d be navigating some daunting, dangerous landscape instead of a high school that was a fraction of a fraction of the size of his last one.

Other students were starting to show up when Matteo left the office. He followed the map toward his first class, slipping in early to avoid notice, handing a slip to his teacher to be signed before taking a seat in the back. He looked down at the syllabus the teacher had given him— Brontë, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. Matteo sighed. English had never been his best subject. He just didn’t have the attention span for reading anything that wasn’t, like, _Harry Potter_ or _Star Wars_ meta online. At least one of these books he’d already “read” at his school back in Phoenix, though. He wondered if he could get away with turning in the essay he’d written with the trusty help of Sparknotes for this class. Hopefully they were too small-town for the likes of [turnitin.com](http://turnitin.com) and it’s pesky copyright-searching capabilities.

“Hi!”

Matteo looked up from the paper at the sudden, perky voice. “Hey,” he said, after what was probably a too-long pause.

“I’m Kiki.” Kiki was pretty and blonde and had a mouth that looked the way other people’s mouths look when they purse their lips. He didn’t know what possible interest Kiki could have in him.

“Hey,” he said again. “Matteo.”

“You’re new here!” It wasn’t a question.

“Uh, yeah, I am.”

“I can show you around, if you’d like.”

“Oh, um, thanks, I actually have a—”

“It’s super easy once you get used to it,” she said, like she’d been new here once, too, which seemed highly unlikely. He didn’t think anyone had been new in Forks since it’d been founded.

“Right,” he said, for something to say. She beamed and slid into the seat beside him.

“What’s your next class?”

Kiki walked him to his next class, when English ended, even though she clearly had a class on the opposite side of the campus. When he left that class, she was waiting for him outside. At lunch, she walked him to the cafeteria. Matteo felt an itching sensation all over.

“It must be fun,” Kiki said as she led him toward her table. “Being new, I mean. It’s like being a celebrity or something.”

Matteo felt a weird sort of relief at her words. She didn’t seem like she was actually interested in _him_ so much as his _role_ in the social hierarchies of public high school. He was the new kid, so, at least for today, he was kind of a commodity, or whatever. That would fade fast, he thought, when people realized how not-at-all-interesting he was. Not that he had _cool_ written on him in any physical way.

“Who’s your friend, Kiki?” another blonde girl said as soon as they sat down. She smiled at Matteo and leaned forward. The way she looked at him, she seemed more actually-interested than Kiki, and the itchy feeling returned— but muted, somewhat. She seemed pretty nonthreatening, to be honest. Maybe it’d be OK if she was into him. Maybe that could work in his favor. Especially since he’d landed pretty firmly on not wanting to be out.

“Sara,” Kiki said, “Matteo. Matteo, Sara.”

“Hey,” Matteo said.

Sara just smiled.

“And this is Mia,” Kiki added, indicating yet another blonde, who glanced up politely from the book open in front of her, “and Leonie.” The last girl was the only brunette at the table. Matteo wondered if he was already doing himself in, sitting at a table of only girls on his first day. Guys with only girl friends gave themselves away a bit, in his experience. But they were nice enough, and he didn’t know anyone else, and at least one of them was looking at him in a very heterosexual manner, so he felt safe enough for the moment.

The girls picked up a conversation he couldn’t follow, Kiki and Sara repeatedly sending him smiles as they talked, and Matteo ate in silence and let his gaze wander around the cafeteria, patrolling the faces there. He didn’t do it consciously, but he knew he was kind of trying to search out other queer kids. It was a force of habit. Ever since he’d figured himself out, he found himself doing it, whenever there was a crowd. _One in ten_ , repeated over and over in his head as he looked around, even though he was pretty sure that statistic was not even correct.

His eyes settled on their table and stuck, but not because of his (faulty, he’d admit) gaydar. Anyone would’ve stared at them. He couldn’t understand how everyone else _wasn’t_.

The group of them sat at the far end of the cafeteria, somehow isolated though their table wasn’t _really_ any further apart than any other. There were five of them— two girls and three guys. None of them looked alike, really, besides having dark hair and a few of them sharing similar skin tones, and being the only table in the cafeteria that wasn’t predominantly white. But there was something off about them, something they all shared. They were stunning, for one— the kind of beautiful that’s objective; unaffected by personal taste or bias. They postured themselves similarly— like models posing for artists, nearly completely still, and almost unnaturally elegant. And he couldn’t be sure from this distance, but it kind of looked like they all had the same color eyes. Dark. Maybe even black.

“Who are _they?_ ” Matteo heard himself ask.

Kiki practically spun in her seat, and Matteo immediately ducked his head, embarrassment setting his cheeks ablaze.

“Oh,” she said, her voice smug with understanding. “The Cullens.”

“And the Hales,” Mia chimed in, without looking up from her book.

“Sam, Carlos, and David Cullen, and Abdi and Amira Hale.”

One of the guys— probably the best-looking of them, if Matteo had to choose— looked over as Kiki spoke, and Matteo, who’d looked over at them again, ducked his head once more when their eyes met, briefly, after the guy looked at Kiki. His face and neck felt hot; but the guy had already looked away when he chanced another glance his way. He hadn’t looked particularly interested, anyway, when he’d first looked— his expression had almost been like that of someone who’s just heard their name called, and looked over instinctually.

“I know,” Kiki said, like she was reading his mind, “they’re hot. But they’re all _together._ And they all _live_ together— they have this, like, hippie commune out in the woods.”

“Kiki,” Mia said, leveling her with a stern look. “They’re good people.” She looked at Matteo, then. “Dr. Cullen and his wife are these do-gooders in their mid-thirties who take in kids who were kicked out of their homes. They all moved here from Alaska or something a couple years back.”

“I still think it’s weird that they’re _dating_ and they _live_ together, like, it’s kind of incest-y, to be honest.”

_“Kiki.”_

“What! I’m just _saying._ ” She turned back to Matteo and indicated the group without actually pointing. “Sam and Abdi are a thing, and so are Carlos and Amira.”

“And this couple— Dr. and Mrs. Cullen— they just, like, let them all live with them? Like foster kids?”

Kiki shrugged and nodded. Matteo looked at their table again.

“That’s kind of amazing.”

Kiki huffed a little, but Mia smiled.

Matteo couldn’t keep his eyes off the guy who’d looked their way, before, the one with the septum piercing and the thick black hair brushed up from his forehead in a kind-of coif. The guy looked over again and Matteo cursed himself for not learning his lesson as he quickly looked away. He’d looked curious, in that brief glance— almost confused.

“Which one is the guy with the septum piercing?”

“That’s David,” Kiki said. Sara, beside Matteo, had begun fidgeting. She looked displeased with this whole conversation, though Matteo couldn’t imagine why. Both the girls over there were taken, and it wasn’t like she knew the real threat for Matteo’s attention was this David guy. “He’s too good for everyone here,” Kiki said. “He won’t even come to _one_ GSA meeting. Like, I was being nice, asking him again—” Mia touched her wrist, and she huffed again.

Matteo stared at her, and then at the guy, who was sitting strangely, his head angled like he was paying attention to a conversation besides the one taking place at his own table. Matteo wanted to ask about the guy, first, but he was pretty floored by Kiki, too. “You’re in GSA?” She must be the _S,_ he thought.

“I’m president,” she said, raising a brow, and tugging her hand down so she could lace her fingers with Mia’s. She gave him a look, like, _is that an issue?_ Matteo just gaped.

“Oh. Um… cool.”

He waited a long beat before letting himself ask the question pressing loud and looming in his head. “So… he’s— that guy David— he’s gay?”

“He’s trans,” Kiki said. “But he might be gay, too.”

“Kiki, you can’t just—” Mia started, looking pained, but Leonie cut her off.

“He’s not gay,” she said, a hint of desperation in his voice. “He’s pansexual. He likes girls.”

Kiki scrunched up her nose. “How do you know that?”

“I saw him wearing a pan pride flag pin once,” Leonie said, shrugging.

“OK,” Mia said, shutting her book. “That’s enough talking about other people’s gender and sexuality without their knowledge. Matteo. Where are you from?”

“Oh,” Matteo said, caught off guard by the sudden subject change. “Arizona. Phoenix. But, I mean, here, originally.”

“Right, you’re Chief Swan’s kid,” Mia said, nodding.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you kind of pale?” Kiki asked.

“What?”

“For Arizona.”

Matteo grinned and shrugged. He felt himself looking at David again, despite himself. David met his gaze— he looked frustrated, before finally turning away, completely, so Matteo could only stare at the back of his head. “Yeah,” Matteo said, looking back at Kiki. “That’s why I had to leave. I was blinding people. They said I was a hazard.”

He thought he saw David’s shoulders shake a little, like he was laughing.

Sara cracked up, which was probably undeserved. Kiki just quirked a brow, seemingly unimpressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams when David shows up like we all used to when Edward came on screen at the midnight showings*


	3. Chapter 3

Matteo was dripping water again when he walked into the Bio room with Mia. He needed to come to terms with that being his new reality— just getting water everywhere, where ever he went, all the time. He felt like he’d never be truly dry again, until he left Forks for good.

As Mia went to her lab table, Mr. Banner signed Matteo’s form and pointed him to the only open seat in the room— right next to David.

Matteo tried not to stare outright as he made his way over to his seat, but David was looking down, distracted, which gave Matteo the perfect opportunity. He had long, dark eyelashes, and a strong jaw, sharp even when relaxed, as it was now. His lips were full and dark, parted just slightly, with the slightest hint of facial hair on his upper lip.

Matteo pretended he hadn’t been ogling him when he was within a few feet of his— their— table, but all pretension was blown away, so he could only stare back with wide, confused eyes, when David’s head suddenly shot up, and his eyes bared down on Matteo with what could only be described as rage. David’s whole body froze up, and he gripped the table with one hand so hard that his veins bulged, like eels lit up under water. Matteo stared, stunned, for a long moment before finally, awkwardly dropping his bag to the floor and himself onto the seat beside David, completely confused and almost a little… scared.

David none-too-subtly moved his stool away, his left hand gripping the far edge of the table, now, as he shifted his entire body to sit as far away from Matteo as humanly possible. He glared hard at the front of the room as Matteo watched him through his peripheral vision, and _now_ his jaw was clenched— if it’d looked sharp before, it was knife-like now. Everything about David was knife-like, just then. Pointed. Sharp. Dangerous. Matteo wanted to ask for a hall pass and just not come back. But he sat stiffly in his seat, the lecture going in one ear and out the other. When Mr. Banner handed back quizzes, Matteo extended his arm to hand David’s to him without turning his body a fraction of an inch. He couldn’t help but glance over, though, only for a second. David glared at him with such vitriol he was surprised he didn’t turn to stone.

The second the bell rang, David was up and out of his seat, and the classroom, before Matteo could even register he’d moved. He relaxed, finally, feeling stiff and achy everywhere, like he’d been hiding in a closet or under a bed, trying not to move, not to be seen.

Sara approached him, grinning wide. He hadn’t even realized she was in this class. “I’ll walk you to your next class!” she said. He wondered if that was, like, a thing here.

He smiled at her half-heartedly, still feeling uneasy, kind of sick to his stomach. He couldn’t think of any possible explanation for David’s behavior. He tried to subtly sniff under his arm, and he glanced at himself in the reflection of the classroom window as they walked out, but nothing was particularly amiss. What was David’s problem?

“So, did you stab David Cullen with a pencil, or what?” Sara asked, smiling as ever, as she glanced over at him. “I’ve never seen him act like that.” He huffed out an unfeeling laugh, half-relieved, half angrier than before at her words. So she’d noticed it, too— and it wasn’t David’s normal behavior.

It must have been something about Matteo, then. But _what? Why?_ Matteo frowned at the ground as they walked.

If it was someone else, he might have thought he’d been, like, spotted. He’d been glared at before, by homophobes, moved to fury over the audacity of his mere existence. But David was neither cis nor straight, at least according to Kiki and Leonie. Matteo glanced down at himself, checking for any kind of logos or team names that might offend— like maybe he somehow put on a jersey this morning, without realizing, and without actually _owning_ any jerseys. He was wearing a grey hoodie, a plain black rain coat, and jeans. It was difficult to imagine what could be offensive, there.

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. His next glass was gym. He would have ditched, and gone to smoke in his truck, but he had to get his stupid form signed, and it was his first day, so he had hopes that his coach would let him sit it out, anyway.

He was right. He spent the PE period sitting on the bleachers, watching volleyballs get hit and trying not to replay David’s glare like a broken record behind his lids when he closed his eyes and leaned back.

He hurried out and to the front office when the final bell rang, relieved to have gotten through the day, and wanting desperately to get out of there and go home, where Charlie would be at work and he could smoke and play Spiderman in peace.

A girl pushed past him when he opened the office door; he waited for her to pass before going in, and his eyes settled on David over her shoulder just before the door closed behind him. He was leaning in toward the lady behind the front desk, this soft, golden smile on his face as he rested an elbow on the countertop, fluttering his lashes and angling up his grin so his cheeks dimpled. He spoke to her in a quiet, velvet-y voice, like one of those men in an old Hollywood romance; Cary Grant or Humphrey Bogart, whispering sweet nothings in an administration office on a Monday afternoon.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cullen,” the woman said, and she sounded it. “It’s halfway through the year, son, you know that. I’m afraid you’ll just have to stay in Bio II. You know the deadline was last semester if you wanted to switch out.”

“There’s a second period Bio II,” David said.

“It’s full. I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do, David.”

The door swung open behind Matteo, letting in a cold rush of wind. David froze and turned his head slowly, meeting Matteo’s gaze like he knew he would be there before he actually saw him, and his death glare was back, strong as before.

“Never mind,” he said through gritted teeth. “Thank you, Doris.”

“Sorry about that, sweetheart.”

Matteo stared at the ground as David brushed past him and out the door.

“Hon?” Doris said, after a long moment of silence, and Matteo startled, his heart beating hard in his chest. “Did you have those forms for me?”

Matteo nodded numbly and walked over, handing them to her, nodding more as she talked and turning when she said he was “all set,” walking out of the office and over to his truck in a daze. He didn’t even know this guy. His obvious— and _intense—_ dislike of Matteo should be inconsequential. He was a new kid, he was bound to be disliked by someone. But it wasn’t just a discomfort with being disliked that was bothering Matteo. He felt a sensation, deep in the pit of his stomach, through from the tips of his fingers to the heels of his feet, that he couldn’t explain. He felt _wrong._

He felt _unsafe._

Charlie knocked on his door when he got home from work that night, though it was open. He leaned in the frame and looked at Matteo’s lap top screen, and the game he was playing, there, for a long, quiet moment.

“How was your first day?” he asked, finally.

Matteo glanced at him and away, feeling sick again. Unsafe. Unwanted. Almost unreal.

“Fine,” he said. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is pretty short, chapter lengths are gonna vary with this bc i dont want to commit to my chapters corresponding directly with twilight chapters etc... also bc i like updating fast and longer updates take more time hahaha
> 
> ALSO the 'stab with a pencil line' is a direct twilight quote-- i keep wanting to be like 'did y'all understand that twilight reference??' but literally. this entire fic is a twilight reference. im dumb


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for mention of homophobia, outing-- nothing "on-screen" so to speak but just to let u know it's there

David vanished the next day, like he’d never been there in the first place. Matteo had worked himself up with the intention to confront him, to ask him what his problem with him was. He wanted to nip whatever this was in the butt. He’d learned his lesson about ignoring his instincts with people in Phoenix. Whatever David didn’t like about him, they’d get it out in the open now. They’d probably be lab partners for the rest of the year, and it was better to just deal with things head-on than let them fester and explode.

But David wasn’t there, so it’d have to wait.

“Are you going to eat that?” Sara smiled sweetly at Matteo across the lunch table, bringing him back to reality.

“Um, no. Go ahead.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear before leaning forward, closer than was really necessary. Matteo was immediately on edge, with her pressing into his personal space, but he smiled back at her when she looked up at him. Maybe it was kind of stupid to appease her, to let whatever she wanted to happen between them happen, considering she was, apparently, an ally; her friends, and his friends, now, too, being out lesbians or bisexuals or whatever they were, holding hands at the table even now, across from him.

He could come out, here, and it would probably be OK. He’d have an immediate support system. And no one seemed to have jumped the gun; caught him out, so he could do it on his own terms. He could do it _himself._

But he just… wasn’t ready.

Renee had asked him a thousand times if he was OK, if he wanted to talk to someone, if he wanted to change schools, even, after what happened in Phoenix. But he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It wasn’t like he got beat up or something. It wasn’t like he’d had private photos shared around the school or been publicly humiliated in some spectacular way. It’d just… come out. And yeah, he’d lost friends. Most significantly the one who kind of… poked the hole. Leaked the information, whether he’d meant for it to spread or not. But it wasn’t, like, an _event._ People had honestly barely seemed to care. There were already out gay kids at his school. He wasn’t a novelty. He’d gotten some penis drawings on tests that got handed back to him by fellow students and he had heard the f-slur a couple times, which honestly stunned him more by how outdated it felt than anything else, like his bullies had watched an instructional video that hadn’t been updated since the ’80s. But even that had petered off by the time he’d left.

It just… hadn’t been his choice. His call. He hadn’t been ready. And he still wasn’t. Maybe less so now than he was before.

So he didn’t flinch away when Sara’s hand brushed his (again, unnecessarily,) as she took the apple from his tray. He just let it happen.

David wasn’t in Biology either, though Matteo hadn’t expected him to be after he didn’t show up at lunch. He spaced out for most of the class, looking at David’s empty side of the table and trying not to let his irritation build even as it did.

He FaceTimed his mom when he got home. She acted like she’d been about to call the police over him failing to call until then. He didn’t know why she expected any different. He’d never been good at that kind of thing. But she relented in her panic when he assured her everything was fine, that he was unpleasantly wet but not dying and that he was making friends just fine; everything she wanted to hear. He told her his friends were in the GSA. That made her happy. He didn’t tell her he wasn’t, and that he didn’t intend to come out. She’d just be needlessly worried. She was always good about this stuff, but she didn’t really _get_ it. Probably, he thought, because she was straight. She was just _so_ straight.

As was Charlie. He didn’t ask about GSA, but he did ask Matteo, over their second night of takeout dinner, eaten awkwardly out of the containers at the dining room table, if he had been making friends.

“Yeah,” Matteo said, bracing himself to repeat everything he’d said to Renee. “These girls kind of took me under their wing right away. Like, in a welcoming committee kind of way, I guess. Kiki and Sara, especially, are really… welcoming. They’re nice.”

“Sara Adamcyzk?”

Matteo raised his brows, surprised and impressed by Charlie’s easy pronunciation of that last name, although he couldn’t really know whether it was correct or not. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Sweet kid,” he said, nodding. “Good family. Her dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. They make pretty good money, with all the backpackers who come through here.”

Matteo nodded dully, and they lapsed back into silence. His dad probably knew every family in town. That was just how places like Forks were. Little and old and familiar. Matteo chewed thoughtfully.

“Do you know the Cullens?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

“Dr. Cullen’s family? Sure, of course. He’s a great doctor. Great guy.”

“The kids are kind of… different. They don’t seem to fit in much. At school.”

Charlie’s face went splotchy red— not the blushing kind, the mad kind, like a cartoon character who’s tie rolls up in rage.

“Some people,” he muttered. “They’re a wonderful family. It’s amazing what they’ve done for those kids. They wouldn’t have anywhere else to go, without Dr. Cullen and his wife. And he’s an amazing surgeon. He could work anywhere he wanted, make a hundred times what they’re paying him here. And the kids are all very nice, very well-behaved. They’re a wonderful example, that whole family. They stick together. They’re always going out on camping trips and hikes together— it’s no money scheme, I’ll tell you that. Just because they’re ‘different’—” here he huffed, the implication of what he thought people meant by ‘different’ clear in his expression— “people have to talk.”

Matteo stared back with raised brows, stunned briefly into silence. He’d never heard Charlie talk at such length before, or with such passion. He didn’t realize he was so… he almost snorted at the thought, but the word ‘woke’ came to mind, despite his best efforts to think of anything else. He wondered if Charlie would come to bats with similar gusto against anyone who had something to say about Matteo being gay.

He wondered if he already had.

Matteo cleared his throat and spun his fork through his noodles. “Um. Yeah. No, yeah. I didn’t really mean… they just kind of keep to themselves, I think. They seemed cool. They’re all… very good-looking.”

Charlie laughed at that. “So are their parents,” he said. “Adoptive, I mean— I don’t know if they call them that or not. But the whole bunch of them are knockouts. There must be something in the water up there in Alaska.”

“Yeah,” Matteo muttered, staring back down at his food. This conversation was so weird. He wanted it to end as soon as possible.

Kiki was pushed out as his walk-to-class partner the next day; Sara had taken that on as a full-time job. David wasn’t in the cafeteria again at lunch, or in Bio after. He didn’t come to school the next day, either, or the one after that. Matteo stopped worrying about him by Thursday afternoon. All his attention was currently being forcibly held captive by Sara, who was following him back to his truck, still talking about the vague plans she’d brought up at lunch for a group night out, which would end at an apparently legendary Italian restaurant, Florenzi’s, when they could manage to get a reservation for their sizable group.

“Cool,” Matteo was saying as he pulled open his driver’s side door and tried to give Sara a placating, OK-I’m-leaving-now smile. “Keep me updated.”

“I will!” she said. “Um. Maybe you could give me your number? So I can? Keep you updated, I mean.”

“Oh,” Matteo said. He nodded after a pause and slipped his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it with face ID and handing it over to her, kind of feeling like he was sealing his fate, unsure how he felt about it.

She smiled as she saved her number in his contacts and handed the phone back to him. “Cool,” she said, still smiling.

“Cool,” Matteo echoed. But it wasn’t, really.

“Maybe we could hang out this weekend,” she said, just as he was getting into the cab of the truck. He glanced at her.

“Um… sure.”

She beamed. “Text me?”

He nodded dumbly as he watched her finally turn to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now that we're mostly out of the intro-y section, bigger changes to the story are going to/have started to appear. i hope u guys like the direction i'm going...


	5. Chapter 5

Kiki looked suspicious as she eyed Sara and Matteo the next day at lunch, like she didn’t quite buy it… whatever it was. Matteo silently commended her for her impeccable instincts.

“They don’t have any openings this month,” Sara whined, grabbing a fry from Matteo’s tray despite the pile of them on her own. They were on the Florenzi’s night subject again.

“Well, good,” Mia said. “More time to save up money to actually be able to afford _anything_ on the menu.” She looked at Matteo. “That place is hugely overpriced.”

“It’s priced exactly right,” Sara said. “Because it’s amazing. The chef is _from Italy._ ”

“So are a lot of people.”

“I hope he’s not sick or something,” Leonie murmured, her brows drawn together and low in concern.

Kiki looked at her. “Who?”

Matteo knew who. He’d followed Leonie’s line of sight just as soon as she’d started looking over at their table. He didn’t want to, but he’d been glancing over there, too. All week. Like he couldn’t help himself.

He knew David hadn’t bailed on school all week because of Matteo. That was not possible. No one would do that. It was way self-involved of him to even consider it. But he kept thinking about David trying to switch out of Bio II. Of his hand gripping the side of the desk like he was trying to turn the wood into sawdust, like you burst a berry between your fingers. It was stupid, but persistent— the need to look, to check that he _still_ wasn’t there, like he might appear out of thin air.

“David,” Leonie sighed. She sounded more distraught than Matteo felt, which was kind of saying something. Matteo raised a brow at her, which caused Sara to break her own gaze, formerly fixed on him, to look over at her friend.

“He’s probably just going on some epic week-long hike or something, Lee.” She looked back at Matteo. “The Cullens are always going camping and stuff. Like, literally, any time it’s sunny, they just ditch school and go into the woods. I don’t get how their attendance record hasn’t totally tanked their grades by now.”

“By himself?” Leonie asked, ignoring everything else Sara had said.

Sara shrugged. Leonie sighed again.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” Sara asked, curling her hair around a finger as she smiled at Matteo. He forced a smile in return and nodded stiffly. Kiki made a little snorting sound. She _really_ wasn’t buying this. Maybe her gaydar was in better condition than his own.

Sara somehow sounded devastated over text when she told him she had to help her dad at the store the next day. He wanted to take the out, but he felt kind of guilty, and he didn’t have anything else to do, anyway. So he drove until he saw the sporting goods store on the edge of town and then he parked in the mostly-empty lot and went in.

Sara’s face lit up like Las Vegas when she saw him.

“Matteo!”

He felt like a unicorn or a dragon or something. An impossible sighting, appearing from some magical other realm to stun Sara at this sporting goods store, dripping wet from the rain.

“Hey.”

She hugged him, which was new for them, and his stomach twisted with anxiety as she pulled away. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t doing anything. Is it cool if I just hang out?”

“Totally!” Sara bounced like she was on springs as she gave him a tour of the store, for no apparent reason. She was just working the front desk, apparently, while her dad was out for a few hours to pick up some delivery that’d got held up in Port Angeles.

“It’s super boring,” she said. “No one ever comes in here on rainy days.”

So no one ever came in at all?

Matteo perched on a plastic rock and flipped idly through a catalogue. Everything seemed hugely overpriced, but he didn’t know anything about outdoorsman stuff, so he was probably way off. His mind flitted to David on a week-long hike. He rolled his eyes at himself and shut the catalogue.

Sara hummed under her breath. Matteo chewed on his lip as he stared at the rock-climbing wall opposite the register.

“Do the Cullens come in here a lot?” He heard the words as if someone else had said them— he was almost surprised to recognize his own voice.

Sara frowned. “Not really.” She shrugged. “But most of this stuff you don’t have to replace too often. Besides, they probably order the really expensive stuff online.” She rolled her eyes. “I doubt they’d stoop to what we have to offer.”

Matteo frowned. He could see what Charlie meant about people’s attitudes towards the Cullens— although Sara seemed more put-out over them being snobbish than anything else. He wondered if they really were, or if they just came off that way because they kept to themselves.

David hadn’t exactly given him the impression that he was snobbish. Just that he hated Matteo on sight for no apparent reason.

Sara pulled out a notebook and leaned over it at the register, writing with a thick pink pen.

Matteo watched her with his head leaned back. “What are you working on?” he asked after a few minutes of quiet.

She looked up at him and her cheeks went red. “Just… a story.”

Matteo hopped off the rock and came closer, tapping out a beat on the counter. “That’s cool. Is it for class or something?”

Sara shook her head. “No. It’s just something Leonie and I used to… well, it’s kind of, like, when we were kids, we played pretend? And I’m sort of… writing down our stories. What we’d pretend.”

Matteo nodded, grinning. “Right. That’s cool! Can I read something?”

Sara bit her lip and looked between him and the notebook. “Um. Maybe not right now.”

Matteo shrugged and pulled himself up on the counter. The silence started up again. He didn’t mind this, he thought to himself. Sitting by Sara while she wrote in her dad’s store. Maybe he could pull this off.

But after her shift, she asked if he wanted to come over. She had a look in her eyes— he didn’t have to think too hard to imagine what she wanted to do at her house.

“I’ve gotta get back,” Matteo said, backing up until he bumped into his truck. “But I’ll see you on Monday?”

Sara nodded, looking disappointed but still smiling, like she thought they’d had a good day overall.

He tried not to feel too bad as he waited for the truck to heat up inside the cab. He didn’t want to lead Sara on. She was nice. But all he’d _really_ done was sit near her while she worked. They hadn’t really even talked all that much.

She could draw whatever conclusions she would. He couldn’t control that.

Matteo sighed and started up the truck. He didn’t mind the noise so much just then— it drowned out his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short update-- the next couple of updates at least are longer, i promise! :)


	6. Chapter 6

It was snowing Monday morning.

Matteo actually didn’t mind snow so much. It felt more definitive— like, if it had to be cold, at least the weather could make up its mind. And snow was the sky’s mind made up.

But he still hoped it wouldn’t last too long.

Renee had sent several frantic texts, looking for a shirt as she packed to go on the road. Matteo rolled his eyes as he replied to let her know the shirt was at the dry cleaner’s, and she was supposed to have picked it up a week and a half ago.

Charlie didn’t make him keep track of these things. Charlie didn’t expect anything of him. Charlie didn’t even complain when he spent the rest of the weekend, after getting back from Sara’s dad’s store, sunk deep into the couch, like he was fossilizing there. And when Matteo went out to the driveway before school, he discovered _Charlie_ had put snow chains on _Matteo’s_ tires.

Snow chains hadn’t exactly been relevant in Phoenix. But if they had been, Matteo knew for a fact that he would have been the one putting them on Renee’s car, not the other way around. He felt odd, like a balloon releasing air, as anxiety seeped out of him and onto the iced-over driveway, just looking at the chains on his tires. Charlie was his dad. Charlie wanted to take care of him.

Matteo bit his lip on a grin. He’d let him. He wasn’t quite sure how. But driving his truck on the icy roads, safe and assured, seemed like a good way to start.

Kiki took her seat next to him in English, and Matteo was almost relieved to find he was starting to get used to the pattern of things here. Not that it was all that different from the pattern he’d been living in Phoenix— high school was high school, after all. But he liked Kiki, and Mia, and Sara and Leonie. He’d made friends, and that made the routine survivable. And they were GSA members— so there wasn’t that pressing fear, which had turned out to be justified, that he might lose them, if the truth came out.

Well, maybe he’d lose Sara. But…

“Don’t you love the snow?” Kiki asked, beaming out the window.

Matteo shrug-nodded. “Better than rain, for sure.”

She looked at him. “That doesn’t seem like a high score from you. Given your opinion on rain.”

Matteo laughed and shrugged again.

A snowball fight started up as soon as class ended and they set foot outside. It held up between classes, so Matteo was holding up his binder as he ducked between Sara and Kiki on their way to lunch. Sara just laughed at him. He didn’t mind snow, but he _still_ didn’t like getting wet. If he could avoid being hit by flying balls of solid water, he would.

Inside the cafeteria, Matteo dropped into his seat and shook out his hair like a dog, grinning when Sara and Kiki squawked in protest, and glanced over at the table by the far wall out of habit. He immediately went still, like he was a robot that’d been abruptly switched off.

David was back. Like he’d never gone, there he sat, laughing and, like Matteo, shaking out his hair— more deliberately, leaning forward as his sister, the gorgeous one who wore hijab, leaned away and lashed out at him with her feet, tracking mud on his pants. He threw his head back in laughter and reached out to high five one of his brothers. His other sister was doing more damage, her thick curls spraying water over the table like a sprinkler. Amira— Matteo remembered her name— ducked under the table.

They looked like they’d fallen right out of a Hallmark movie, if Hallmark was significantly less white, and if the actors moved like dancers— actually, maybe they looked more like ballerinas, mid-performance of _The Nutcracker._

“What are you staring at, Matteo?” Kiki asked.

David’s head turned, quick, like a cat that’s eye’s been caught by the flapping wing of a little bird. His eyes locked with Matteo’s.

Matteo dropped his gaze immediately and turned in his seat to face Kiki. She raised her eyebrows, and Sara, on her other side, looked surprised and a little put out. As if she had anything to worry about _there._

It’d only been a second, but Matteo couldn’t help thinking it— David hadn’t looked hateful, when their eyes met. He’d looked curious; somehow disgruntled; that kind of look someone gets when they’re desperately trying to remember a specific word or the name of a song stuck in their head.

“OK, don’t look now,” Kiki said. “But I’m ninety-five percent sure David Cullen is staring at you.”

“Me?” Leonie asked, looking up abruptly, her back straightening.

“Sorry, Lee. I meant Matteo.”

Matteo leaned even closer to her, lowering his voice as if David might somehow hear him from across the expanse of the cafeteria. “Does he look mad?”

“What? Why would he look mad?”

“Does he?”

“No. Well, maybe. Kind of annoyed, I think? Did you do something?” Her eyes met Matteo’s abruptly, suddenly flashing with defensive anger.

“No! Stop looking at him.”

“What’s going on, Swan?”

Matteo tried not to snort at the jock-treatment. “Nothing. He just doesn’t like me, I think.”

“So why’s he staring at you, then?”

“ _Because_ he doesn’t like me?”

“That doesn’t—”

“I’m pretty sure he’s looking at me,” Leonie said. Kiki rolled her eyes.

Matteo didn’t look back toward the far table for the rest of lunch. He followed Mia and Sara out of the cafeteria when the bell rang, keeping his head down.

His desk was still empty when he got to Bio— he breathed out a sigh of relief as he dropped onto his stool and pulled out his notebook.

“Hi.”

Matteo looked up, eyes already wide as David sat on the stool beside him, delicately, like the chair was made of glass.

Matteo didn’t say anything for a moment that stretched out way too long, so when he did speak it sounded like he’d started the conversation. “Um. Hey.”

“My name’s David,” David said, smiling graciously, angling his head just slightly. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last week. You’re Matteo, right?”

Matteo nodded, speechless. ‘Didn’t get a chance to introduce himself?’ That was more than an understatement— it was a gross misrepresentation of what transpired at this desk, this time last week. David had looked at Matteo like he wanted to eat him alive, but sure, he ‘didn’t get a chance to introduce himself.’ Like, _what?_

“It’s nice to meet you, Matteo.”

This was so weird. Why was he being so nice, all of the sudden? It was like David _had_ somehow heard the conversation Matteo had about him at lunch, and he was trying to prove Matteo wrong.

Mr. Banner started class before Matteo could reply. They would be identifying the stages of mitosis with onion root cells and microscopes. Matteo swallowed a groan. He’d done this already, in Phoenix. He hadn’t been any good at it then— he doubted he’d be better now.

“Do you want to start?” David asked, though he was already sliding the microscope toward himself, when Mr. Banner had set down their slides on the table.

Matteo shook his head adamantly. “Knock yourself out.”

David studied the slide, and, despite himself, Matteo studied David. He wanted to be mad at him still— he _was_ mad at him still.But he couldn’t help looking at him.

He was even more beautiful up close. Almost too beautiful to process— like a painting your eyes glaze over when you don’t have the presence of mind to really take it in; to give it the attention it deserves.

David looked up sooner than Matteo thought he would, and blood rushed into Matteo’s cheeks as he quickly turned his head, staring hard at the paper before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw David’s gaze fall on Matteo’s cheeks briefly before darting away. He pushed the microscope toward him.

“It’s prophase. You can check, if you want.”

“I’m good.” Matteo wrote _prophase_ down on their shared lab sheet and reluctantly pulled the microscope closer to himself.

He chewed on his lower lip. Maybe if he stared at this thing long enough, the right answer would just appear in his mind, like magic. He sighed. “Tel… Meta… Metaphase?”

“I’ll check, if you want?”

Matteo nodded, pushing the microscope over again. David reached out to accept it, and for a second their fingers brushed, and Matteo flinched away so hard he knocked one of their slides off the table. David’s hand darted out to catch it in a flash. He was seriously quick-moving. Matteo wondered idly if David played any sports, as he tried to cool himself from the odd rush of hot-and-cold that’d darted through his body at the touch of David’s skin. David must have been taking part in the snowball fight outside before he’d come in, because his fingers were ice cold— but somehow that brief touch had set Matteo on fire, like he’d stuck his fingers in an electrical socket.

“Sorry,” Matteo muttered.

“No,” David said. “It’s cool. I was—” He cut himself off, frowning deeply, before checking the microscope— briefly, again. “You’re right. It’s metaphase.”

Matteo huffed out a laugh of a breath. “I definitely thought I was wrong.”

David grinned at him. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matteo blushed again and wrote down _metaphase._

“So the last one must be telophase,” he said.

“Must be.”

Matteo nodded and wrote it down.

When he glanced around the room, he discovered they were the first to finish the assignment. Everyone else was still studying their microscopes, looking frustrated or baffled or some combination of both. Apparently, Matteo had lucked out on lab partners. Figured that David was book smart as well as ridiculously hot. Matteo sighed and chanced another look his way.

David was looking at him already, and he smiled politely when their eyes met. It was only then that Matteo noticed the change. He couldn’t believe he’d missed it. But he’d been so floored by David’s shift in behavior, he must not have had the mental space to comprehend the visual disparity at the same time.

“Did you get contacts?” he asked.

David blinked. “Um. Yes. I mean, no. Yes. I—” He dropped his gaze and turned his whole body toward the front of the room.

David’s eyes were a completely different color than the last time Matteo had seen him, he was _sure_ of it. They’d been black before. Totally black. Now they were a rich golden color, like a caramel glaze.

David glanced to his right again— but not at Matteo. He smiled politely at something over Matteo’s shoulder.

“Mr. Cullen,” Mr. Banner said, stopping by their desk with an annoyed look on his face. “I hope you let Matteo have a chance to identify some of the slides himself.”

“He did half of it,” David said.

“Oh.”

“Well, I did one,” Matteo said in a rush. “The last one was process of elimination.” What? Why was he saying that? Why was he talking at all? Something about sitting next to David, staring at him and trying not to, suddenly being affronted with his friendly behavior after last week— it was like Matteo was completely disoriented. He had no brain-to-mouth filter.

Mr. Banner grunted. “Well. That’s fine, then.” He walked away.

David was still sitting far away from Matteo, like last week. Matteo tried to piece together all the contrasting aspects of David’s behavior— and _appearance_ — but it jumbled up in his head, like a jigsaw puzzle in a bowl.

“So _did_ you—” Matteo started, but David cut him off.

“You’re from Phoenix, right?”

Matteo paused, caught off guard by the question and the interruption. “Yeah. Right.”

“That’s quite a change.”

“Quite a downgrade.”

David studied him again, that same odd look of burgeoning frustration in his eyes. “You’re not a fan of Forks?”

“Uh… I have nothing against it, objectively. I have a lot against me being here, though.”

“So why’d you come?”

Matteo shrugged. “It’s complicated. You know. I just had to.”

“Right. So… you killed someone? Had to go into hiding?”

Matteo laughed, surprised, and allowed himself to look at David again, despite the disorienting effect his face consistently had on him. “Something like that.”

David seemed to bite the inside of his cheek. “Really, though. Why?”

Matteo shrugged. “It’s not interesting. Just family stuff.”

David looked more frustrated than before. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he said, but he sounded put out, childlike. Matteo found himself grinning a little.

“It’s… my mom remarried.”

David nodded decisively, understanding alighting in his eyes. “So you don’t like the guy.”

Matteo frowned. “No, I mean, it’s whatever, Phil’s cool. Renee likes him, so, you know.” He shrugged.

David’s brow furrowed. He ran a hand through his hair. Matteo thought that might be the end of it, but David pushed on, “So… why didn’t you stay with them?”

Matteo shrugged. “Phil’s a minor league baseball player. He moves around a lot.”

David nodded, understanding again. “So your mom sent you here so she could travel with him.”

Matteo frowned. “Uh… no. I came here myself. I mean, it was my call.”

David frowned at him, like he’d said something rude. Matteo quirked a brow, kind of confused by David’s whole vibe at the moment.

“Why?”

Matteo started to shrug, and David’s hand shot out, like he was going to put a hand on his shoulder to physically stop him. He pulled back at the last second, staring at his own hand like he’d never seen it before. “I’m sorry. Wow. I’m sorry.”

Matteo just laughed. “It’s cool.”

“I’m just confused.”

Matteo laughed again, bemused. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know. I just…” David trailed off, rolling his eyes at himself and pushing a hand through his hair again.

When he turned to Matteo again, there was a strange sort of determination in his expression. “So you hate Forks.”

Matteo grinned guiltily. “Yeah…”

“So where would you live, then? If your mom wasn’t a factor? Phoenix?”

“What, like, out of everywhere?”

David nodded, a little smile playing around the corners of his mouth, his eyes darting around Matteo’s face like he was something fascinating to look at. Matteo felt himself blushing again under the gaze, and David abruptly turned away.

“Uh— I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. California, maybe, I guess? LA or something?”

“You like warm weather.”

“I like not getting wet.”

David grinned. “LA doesn’t seem like the ideal place for that.”

Matteo chuckled. “OK, well, the ocean is OK, I mean— I don’t like getting _rained_ on.”

“There’s an ocean here.”

“It’s cold. And it’s cold _out_. It’s not the same.”

David nodded, a thoughtful look on his face, like he was trying to puzzle out a difficult philosophical question, instead of the very bland conversation he was having with the all-together uninteresting Matteo Swan.

“Where would you go?” Matteo finally asked, after the silence had stretched out too long to bear.

David smiled. “Detroit.”

“ _Detroit?_ Out of anywhere? Why?”

David rested his chin on his hand. “Best music city ever.” His eyes smiled along with his mouth as he looked over at Matteo. He licked his lips, and Matteo tracked the movement. He looked away quickly.

David waited a pause before speaking again. “You’re friends with Kiki Machwitz and Mia Winter, right?”

Matteo knew what that question meant, and though it gave him a little thrill that David was asking it, he was also flooded, immediately, with a tsunami of anxiety, so he felt queasy and dizzy all at once. Matteo sometimes wondered if he’d feel any different if he went sky-diving, or bungee-jumping, or whatever, than he did when he got like this. He glanced at the clock.

“Um, yeah, they’re cool. Sara Adamcyzk, too. She’s really cool.” He tried to sound heterosexual, but he was pretty sure the way he butchered Sara’s last name was doing little to help his case.

David nodded slowly. He turned to Matteo again. “Will you tell me why now?” he asked, like he’d been holding the question in for hours.

Matteo quirked a brow. “Why what?”

“Why you came to Forks.”

“I told you why.”

“But you didn’t have to. It was your decision. So why?”

Matteo shrugged again, and David huffed an irritated sigh. Matteo looked at him, confused.

“You’re… annoyed.”

David shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just… don’t get you.”

Matteo laughed. “You don’t know me.”

David shook his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous. I just… reading people usually comes easily to me. And I can’t read you. I don’t know why. It’s kind of driving me crazy.”

Driving him crazy? They’d been talking for a whopping, like, fifteen minutes. The last time they’d sat next to each other he’d shot dagger eyes the likes of which could kill a man, and now he couldn’t immediately understand Matteo’s every motivation and it was driving him crazy?

“I guess I’m out of practice,” David said, but he seemed to be speaking more to himself, now, than to Matteo, as he stared off into space. He was still sitting so far away from Matteo, given the small space. Matteo felt crazy, too. This whole hour had been bonkers, in his book.

When Mr. Banner had collected all the assignments, and the bell signaling the end of class rang, David shot out of the room, just like before, so quickly Matteo had barely reached down for his backpack by the time he was gone.

Sara met him by the door. “David was friendlier today,” she said, raising a bemused brow.

“Yeah. I don’t get what his deal is.”

She shrugged. “I’d always thought he was just kind of generally unsocial— their whole family is kind of like that, you know, they keep to themselves. But maybe he wanted to make an effort since you guys are lab partners?”

“We were lab partners last week, too,” Matteo muttered.

Sara frowned. “Maybe he ate something bad last week?”

Matteo snorted. “Yeah. That’s probably it.”

He ran over their conversation over and over in his head. Maybe Sara was right. Maybe David had just been having a weird, off day last week. Maybe they could be friendly, from here on out.

And Matteo wouldn’t even think about being anything else. There was no point. That wasn’t on the table. Even if David wasn’t straight, there was no way he’d ever be interested in Matteo. They were in completely different stratospheres— not to mention that Matteo wasn’t out.

A volleyball slammed into Matteo’s side. He skittered to the left.

“Sorry, dude,” some guy with floppy hair called out. Matteo nodded at him dismissively.

But why had David looked at him like that? Why had he been so interested in Matteo’s answers to those inane questions?

And _what_ was with the contacts?

Another volleyball hit Matteo squarely in the chest.

“Swan!” Coach called. “Look alive out there!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're doing yourself a disservice if u dont listen to tremble for my beloved while u read this

Matteo woke up the next morning with a kind of thrill in his stomach like you feel when you’re a kid waking up on Christmas day. He groaned and mashed the palms of his hands into his closed eyes. He knew what had brought on this sudden burst of delirium, totally at odds with the location he currently called home. He needed to snap out of this. He had _one_ conversation with David Cullen— preceded by being intensely iced out with a side of death glaring. There was no reason for him to be looking forward to seeing him again. It was, in fact, ridiculous to do so.

It’d snowed again. Matteo sighed as he inched carefully across the iced-over driveway toward his truck. He preferred snow to rain, generally speaking, but the ice he could do without. He was liable to slip and break his head open. He didn’t understand how people lived like this.

In the school parking lot, Matteo held onto the side of his truck as he walked around it, like a kid holding onto the side of a pool. He paused by the trunk to grab his backpack, which he’d tossed back there at home in an effort to aid his equilibrium on his way to the driver’s side door.

Matteo felt eyes on him. He glanced up, and around, until his eyes settled on David, several cars away, who was studying him with a look of concentration, like a kid trying to move an object with his mind. David dropped his gaze just as a strange sound caught Matteo’s attention— it got louder quickly, and David looked up again, his eyes going wide, as Matteo turned toward the high-pitched, screeching noise, confused.

Someone yelled just as Matteo’s eyes locked on the source of the sound. A blue van, skidding— probably it’d hit a patch of black ice— and coming toward Matteo sidelong at a pace too rapid for Matteo to do anything but stare.

He heard the horrible sound of the van crashing into the corner of the truck at the same time as he felt himself being knocked, hard, toward the asphalt. But whatever had hit him had come from the wrong direction— the van had collided with his truck, but it hadn’t hit Matteo.

Matteo’s head hit the icy blacktop, and something cold and solid pinned him to the ground. He stared to his side— he was on the pavement beside the grey car he’d parked beside. He didn’t have time to register anything else— the van was still coming. It’d curled around the end of the truck and kept on moving, like a feather in the wind. It was about to collide with Matteo a second time.

“Come _on!_ ” The voice was fast but loud, filled with rage. He knew it immediately.

Brown hands shout out in front of Matteo, and the van shuttered to a stop a mere foot from his face, the hands fitting into a deep dent in the side of the van like a mold.

David’s hands— because it was him, those were his hands— moved so quickly, then, that they actually seemed to blur. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something dragged Matteo, swung his legs around like a dummy in an accident simulation, until they hit the tire of the grey car. The van dropped down with a thunderously loud sound, the kind Matteo imagined a robot might make in place of a howl of pain. Glass scattered everywhere, and Matteo just stared. The van had landed exactly where his legs had just been.

Matteo’s head buzzed in the resounding silence that followed the sudden stillness around him. Screaming started up, all around, and Matteo heard his name being shouted in voices he didn’t recognize.

“Matteo?” David’s voice, frantic in his ear, snapped him back to the present— he’d been sort of hovering over his body, completely absent from the reality of what’d just happened. What _had_ just happened?

“Matteo? Are you OK?” David sounded like he thought Matteo might somehow be dead, despite the evidence to the contrary that was directly in front of him.

“Never better,” Matteo managed. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t— David’s grip on him, holding him down, felt like a cement block on his chest.

“Careful,” David said. “I think you hit your head pretty hard.”

Matteo stared up at him— his head did hurt, kind of abruptly, but he couldn’t think about that just then. He blinked at David. He felt like he’d just seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

David’s brow furrowed and he laughed. “Um. I go to school here? You do, too. You really did hit your head, huh?”

“No,” Matteo said. “ _Here._ Right here. You weren’t over here. You were by your car. There’s no way you could have gotten over here so fast. Right? I’m right, right?”

David frowned and sat up, finally releasing Matteo, albeit gently, to lay unabated on the ground and stare blankly, bewilderedly, up at the strangely blue sky.

“I was here the whole time,” David said— he sounded like a kid in an English class, reading Shakespeare aloud, doing a terrible job of delivering a line. “I was right next to you.”

“You weren’t,” Matteo said.

Their conversation, as it was, got cut off as panicked students and teachers alike finally breached the little alcove of vehicles they’d found themselves in, and encroached in on Matteo like a pack of hyenas.

Somehow, he was lifted from the ground and onto a stretcher. David vanished, just as quickly as he’d appeared. Matteo tried to turn his head to look for him, but someone held him still and put a neck brace on him.

“I don’t need that,” he said, but no one was listening to him.

He couldn’t find David, but he did see his siblings— standing just where David had been, before, all around their car, staring in his direction with mixed expressions of horror and rage. That didn’t make sense to him. Shouldn’t they all have looked panicked, worried for their brother’s well-being? Maybe they didn’t know David had been in harm’s way.

As the ambulance pulled out of the parking lot, Matteo stared at the metal ceiling and wondered whether he was having some kind of mental breakdown. Had he just hallucinated? But he couldn’t have. If what he’d thought had happened _hadn’t_ happened, he’d probably be dead. The van had been coming right at him. He’d have been sandwiched between two hunks of metal; crushed like a junkyard car. He’d be in a hearse, not an ambulance.

Charlie was already at the hospital when Matteo arrived. He sprinted toward him, his mouth going a million miles an hour as he asked the paramedics about a hundred questions, most of which didn’t actually make sense, and he followed Matteo’s stretcher with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine, dad,” Matteo repeated for the millionth time just before he was pushed through the emergency room doors, where he was moved to a bed, and a nurse put a pressure cuff on his arm.

Taylor, the girl who’d been driving the van, was rushed in and put in the bed next to Matteo’s.

“I’m so sorry, Matteo!” she practically yelled, as a nurse pushed her gently back.

“It’s cool,” he said, feeling acutely uncomfortable. What exactly were you _supposed_ to say to the girl who just, by no real fault of her own, almost killed you in a parking lot?

“I thought I was going to kill you,” she said, her voice tinged with horror.

“Uh,” Matteo said.

“How did you get out of the way so fast? You were right there— I thought I would—” She swallowed, her wide eyes fixed on thin air.

Matteo frowned. “David pushed me out of the way,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced, even to himself.

“David?”

“Yeah. David Cullen.”

“What? I didn’t see him. He was there?”

Matteo felt vindicated and also more confused than ever.

“Apparently,” he muttered. Taylor gave him a baffled look, and he raised a shoulder in a shrug, and winced. He was sore all over.

Matteo was wheeled away for an X-ray, but there was nothing wrong with him. Not even a concussion.

He just wanted to get out of there. This whole situation was making him feel inches away from a breakdown. He wondered if it was safe to smoke with a head injury. He really needed to smoke. But it wasn’t like he could ask anybody… even if this _was_ the Pacific Northwest. They weren’t _that_ cool.

Matteo closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, like those people always tell you to in YouTube tutorials on staving off or dealing with panic attacks. _Access your senses_ , a girl with purple hair and an eyebrow piercing said, replaying in his mind as he tried to concentrate. _Touch whatever is closest to you. How does it feel?_ He grasped at the hospital mattress. Harder than he would’ve liked. _What can you see? What can you smell? What can you hear?_

“Is he asleep?”

Matteo heard that. His eyes flew open and he turned his head— they’d let him take the neck brace off— his eyes locking on David at the foot of his bed.

David smiled sheepishly. “Hey. What’s the damage dealt?”

Matteo almost grinned at David’s choice of words, before he caught himself and frowned. “How come you’re up there and I’m down here?”

David laughed. “Gravity?”

“You were next to me. You should be in a hospital bed, too.”

David sat on the edge of Matteo’s bed. “Is that better?”

Matteo opened his mouth to reply, but the doors pushed open just then and a doctor came in and toward Matteo, smiling politely. He was young, probably in his thirties, with curly brown hair and a friendly glow in his cheeks.

“David,” the doctor said, surprised.

“Hey,” David said, staring at the floor, abashed, for reasons beyond Matteo’s comprehension.

Matteo stared between them. He gaped. “Is this your dad?”

The doctor looked back at him, smiling more sincerely now. “Hello. I’m Dr. Cullen. You’re a classmate of David’s?”

Matteo nodded. “He just saved my life.”

Dr. Cullen flashed a surprised looked toward David, who kept staring at the floor. Something like concern crossed briefly across the doctor’s face before he looked back at Matteo, smiling again— but it was back to politeness, there was nothing left in his eyes.

“Well, that’s…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Are you feeling all right, then?”

Matteo shrugged. “My head kind of hurts, but I’m fine. I don’t have a concussion.”

The doctor chuckled. “If you say so.” He examined the light board by Matteo’s head and nodded. “Your X-rays look good.” He turned back to me. “Tylenol should be strong enough for the pain. Come back if it doesn’t help, or if anything changes— any dizziness or trouble with your eyesight— all right?”

Matteo nodded.

He smiled. “Your dad’s waiting for you, right? Chief Swan?”

Matteo nodded again.

“You’re free to go.” He turned toward Taylor. “I’m afraid _you_ will have to stay a bit longer.”

Matteo stood carefully, and approached David, who was still staring at the floor, looking lost in thought.

“Can I talk to you?” Matteo asked.

David looked up at him and grimaced. “Your dad’s waiting…”

“He’ll survive.”

David sighed and nodded, standing and walking with Matteo out of the room. Matteo staggered a little, and David caught his arm, straightening him with impressive strength. Matteo shot him a surprised look, and David squished up his face like you do when you’ve just said something you didn’t mean to.

They paused in an empty hallway, but David didn’t look up from the floor.

“I’m not high,” Matteo started.

A startled laugh escaped David, and he looked up, at last, raising a brow in question.

“I’m not. I’m just saying, because, like, I am, a… good amount of the time. But I’m not right now. And I don’t do anything hard, anyway. I just smoke. You don’t hallucinate from weed, OK?”

“I didn’t say you did,” David said. He was grinning a little, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or not.

“OK, so then, what was that?”

David’s grin fell. He played dumb. “What was what?”

“Where did you come from? How did you—” Matteo cut himself off to groan in frustration. “I sound crazy. I _feel_ crazy. This is crazy.”

“That’s not the most politically—”

“You pushed the van!” The words burst out of Matteo as if of their own will. “You— you weren’t next to me. You were by your car, where your family was, before and after. You— my legs— in the side of the van, your hand— there was a dent—”

“I thought you did’t have a concussion,” David said. He sounded concerned, but it was fake, again. Whatever else David was, a skilled actor he was not.

“David.”

David sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes.

“Can you just tell me? Can you tell me what’s going on?”

The hall was quiet for a long moment. “No,” David said, finally. His voice was quiet. There was a hint of desperation in his tone.

“So there _is_ something going on?”

David straightened and fixed his eyes on Matteo. They were golden again, today. But they almost looked a shade darker than they’d been the day before.

“Please,” he said. “Drop it. Please, Matteo. I’m asking you. OK?”

“I— what?” Matteo just stared at him, baffled and kind of dazed. When David looked right at him, it was kind of like he was driving with someone’s brights in his eyes. He couldn’t see straight, he couldn’t focus right. Everything was off.

“Please let this go?”

Matteo stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“I know.” David nodded. “Can you just…” He sighed, his shoulders drooping like he was defeated. He looked up at Matteo again, from under his lashes. _That’s not fair,_ Matteo thought. “I saved your life, right? So can you do this for me?”

“Do… what?”

“Leave it.”

Matteo was speechless. They stood still, just looking at each other. Matteo wondered if he was just dreaming. That seemed like the most likely explanation. But just in case, he didn’t do what he would have done, just because he could, if this was a dream.

He nodded, and David turned away and was gone before Matteo could get a chance to change his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment if u feel so inclined!! i live off y'all's comments :')


	8. Chapter 8

Matteo stared at the front of the room, at the name _Heathcliff_ on the whiteboard, as Mia, next to him, answered whatever question Mrs. Mason had asked with easy confidence. His head didn’t hurt anymore. Charlie had asked if he wanted to stay home from school today. Any other time he would have said yes. But he thought about David and he’d come. Now he stared at Heathcliff’s name and wondered what exactly was wrong with him.

David was sitting with his family again at lunch. He glanced over at Matteo when he first sat down, and kind of smiled, but he didn’t look over again. Matteo tried to pay attention to the conversation his friends were having at his own table, but he couldn’t stop looking David’s way, staring at his hands. The same hands he’d seen stop an oncoming van. Because that happened, right? That _happened._

“Matteo?”

He looked over at Kiki. “Huh?”

“The date, for Florenzi’s? You’re coming, right?”

“Um, yeah,” he said. “Text it to me. I’ll save it in my phone.”

She nodded and immediately lifted her phone from the table, presumably to do just that. Sara smiled at Matteo. She had on this shiny purple eyeshadow that kind of looked like a bruise. Matteo tried to smile back, but he just kept thinking about the bruise on his shoulder, from where he’d hit the pavement. He could have died. He _should_ have died. He looked over at David again.

In Bio, Matteo approached his seat slowly and cautiously, like he was creeping up on an animal. David was already sitting down, and he only looked over once Matteo was seated and pulling out his notebook. “Hi,” Matteo said. His voice cracked. And here he’d been so sure he was over and done with puberty.

“Hello,” David said. “How’s your head?”

“Still on.” Matteo flashed him an awkward grin and David chuckled half-heartedly. There was a nervous look in his eyes. Maybe he was wondering if Matteo would ask him, again, what’d happened yesterday. But Matteo had agreed to drop it— even though it was driving him crazy. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to that, really. David had just looked sort of… desperate.

“And how’s your truck?” David asked, after a long pause.

Matteo snorted a laugh. “Basically totally unaffected. She’s a tank. Taylor’s van is totaled, though, I heard.” Matteo kind of felt bad about that. But what was he supposed to do— offer to pay for the repairs of the van that almost killed him? He’d mentioned it to Charlie. Charlie had asked him if he was sure his head was OK.

David’s mouth quirked up on one side. “‘She?’”

Matteo laughed.

“Are you a sea captain?”

“I am, in fact, yeah. Thanks for noticing.”

“Really? Does high school get in the way of your busy… captaining schedule?” David laughed halfway through his own sentence, like he couldn’t get it out with a straight face.

“You nailed that,” Matteo said. David laughed again.

“I’m glad the truck is OK.”

“She thanks you for your service.”

David’s smile fell, and Matteo realized his words might have broken the “drop it” code. He didn’t really know the rules here. He didn’t want to press David if it would upset him— he’d saved Matteo’s life, after all, so letting him off the hook on _how_ , exactly, he did that, seemed like the least he could do. But how was he supposed to talk to him and just never bring it up? It was basically all he could think about.

Mr. Banner started class just in time. Matteo and David didn’t talk much more that hour— it was mostly a lecture class, though, so no one really talked that much, besides Mr. Banner. Matteo didn’t think they were really on the level of note-passing yet, anyway. So he just sat next to David and tried not to stare.

The next day was similar, and the ones after that. They were friendly. But he never quite felt like they were _friends_. They didn’t talk outside of Bio— besides maybe a greeting in the hallway, or the parking lot, if the opportunity presented itself. Matteo wanted more. He wanted to ask David if he’d sit with him one day at lunch. He wanted to see him outside of school, even. But he knew if he let himself really be friends with David— if he pursued that— he’d only want more than that more. He’d _want_ David, and that wasn’t what he was doing, here.

Not that he didn’t already _want_ David. But it was manageable, for now. If he was seeing David outside of a school setting— David in a car, David in his living room, David at a diner or movie theater… he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, his mind would go places he was keeping it from, at the moment. David was his classmate. His lab partner. They were friendly. That was enough. Matteo had other friends. He didn’t need one more. Besides, David didn’t hang out with people besides his siblings, as a rule. None of the Cullens or Hales did. There was no reason for Matteo to believe that David would say yes if he asked him to hang out.

Things were good as they were. He’d just leave it at that.

He kept telling that to himself.

A few weeks passed, and apparently some spring dance was quickly approaching, because it seemed to be all that anyone could talk about. Sara approached his table in Bio one day with a resolute expression on her face, and Matteo’s stomach flipped over and in on itself before she’d even reached him, and pulled herself up on the corner of the desk. She’d darted nervous little glanced over at him all through lunch. He thought he knew where this was going, and he was less than thrilled about it.

“So,” she said.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she smiled, this bashful, sweet little smile while she tucked in her chin that probably would have totally undone Matteo if he was anywhere else on the Kinsey scale.

David sat quietly on Matteo’s left, keeping to himself as he always did when Sara planted herself where she was sitting now. Even when David and Matteo had been mid-conversation moments before, David always went quiet and turned toward his notebook or whatever novel he’d toted with him to class that day the moment Sara appeared. It was like he was trying to give them space, or something. Matteo suppressed a sigh.

“Are you going to the spring formal, do you think?” Sara cut to the chase, at last, tugging on the hem of her shirt.

“Nah.”

Sara’s face fell. She straightened her shoulders. “Why not?”

Matteo shrugged. “Dances aren’t really my thing.”

She smiled softly, leaning just slightly forward. Matteo pointedly did not look toward her chest. “That sounds sway-able.”

“Uh…”

“If I…” she dropped her gaze, and when she looked back at him again, she looked up from under her lashes. She was good. Unlucky, but good. “Asked you? To go… with me?”

Matteo shrugged again. It felt much more forced this time. “Sorry, Sara. I’m going to Seattle that day, anyway.”

Her shoulders drooped, and she slid off the desk. “OK,” she said, and walked away unceremoniously.

Matteo felt eyes on him, and turned to see David staring. He had that expression again— Matteo hadn’t seen it for a while now, but there it was, just like the first time they talked, that bizarre frustration, like Matteo was a walking cliffhanger, leaving David wanting more without saying anything at all.

“What?” Matteo asked, flustered under the gaze.

“I thought you liked Sara,” David said, all in a rush. He coughed and turned away, looking surprised at himself.

Matteo frowned. “I do.”

David sighed. “What’s in Seattle?”

Matteo shrugged. “GameStops. There aren’t any decent game stores around here.”

“Can’t you just order online?”

Matteo grinned a little. “City people,” he said. “Are also in Seattle.”

David laughed at that. “So I take it small town life is getting to you?”

“You could say that.”

David looked at him for a long moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. Matteo wanted to ask ‘what’ again, but he waited, fidgeting under David’s attention.

“Do you want a ride?”

Matteo reeled, confused. “A ride…?”

“To Seattle.”

“With who?”

David smirked. “With me, Matteo.”

Matteo felt his eyes widening and tried to school his expression, clearing his throat and lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I… have a truck.”

David raised an amused brow. “You think it’ll make the trip?”

Matteo shook his head. “Why would you… what are you…”

“I want to,” David said. Matteo raised his brows, and David quickly added, “I need to go to Seattle, too. My sister’s been bugging me about picking up some specialized hair scarves for her there.”

“Can’t she go herself?”

David mimicked Matteo and shrugged.

Matteo paused a beat too long, and David cleared his throat, turning back toward the front of the room. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have— it’s cool, your truck’ll be fine, you don’t need—”

“I’ll take it,” Matteo cut in. David raised his brows, looking at him again. “The ride. If you’re still offering.”

David looked like he couldn’t decide whether he was or not. He nodded, finally, decisively, and started up a nervous ticking of his pen against the table. He moved so fast— the pen blurred. David caught Matteo looking and abruptly dropped it, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sara came over after school that day, by her own invitation. Matteo didn’t know what to do with himself, or her, for that matter. He offered her food, but she turned that down, and he asked if she wanted to do homework or watch TV, but she just shook her head, looking at him, expectant.

Somehow she seemed to be emboldened after that afternoon’s semi-rejection, like she had to act now or lose the progress they’d made thus far. Matteo hated that. Girls always seemed to approach relationships like that, from his limited and unwanted experience— step one, step two, step three. Like they were playing a board game, where you might be forced back squares, where there was a determined endpoint, and the goal was getting there. Even if he wasn’t gay, he didn’t think he’d like that, the look Sara was giving him, telling him to make a move. Why couldn’t they just exist around each other? Why couldn’t they enjoy the moment?

“OK, well,” Matteo said. “I have some multi-player games, if you want…”

Sara’s face fell— obviously this wasn’t the offer she’d wanted him to give. But she nodded, anyway, and followed him upstairs.

In his room, Sara looked around and grinned. “I like your rocking chair,” she said, obviously amused.

“Oh,” Matteo said. “Thanks. It’s from when I was a kid. Charlie hasn’t really redecorated much over the years.” He shrugged.

Sara raised a brow at him. “You call your dad Charlie?”

“Uh… yeah. I mean. Not to his face.”

She laughed, her brow still raised, bemused. “OK…”

They settled on his bed to play Mario, and Sara kept trying to move closer to Matteo. He tried to move away without being obvious about it, and by the time she sadly let him know that she should probably get home, he was so close to the edge of his bed he had to hold onto the side with one hand so he wouldn’t fall off.

An unpleasant feeling had built up in his stomach since Sara approached him at his truck, and it stayed after she left, and all that night, and it was there, still, when he woke up the next morning.

It only grew when he went to lunch the next day, and looked over at the Cullens’ table. David wasn’t there. It was just like Matteo’s second day in Forks. David was gone again. Maybe he’d never come back. Maybe he never _had_ come back. Maybe Matteo had made up everything— the accident, the weeks that followed, yesterday’s offered ride. It made more sense, in a way, than Matteo’s perceived reality, at the moment. This ridiculously beautiful guy that saved Matteo from being crushed by a van with his bare hands, this guy who laughed like sunlight reflecting off water and who liked guys, and who sometimes looked at Matteo like he was the world’s greatest unsolved mystery, and he’d do anything to figure him out. He couldn’t be real. It just didn’t make logical sense.

Matteo grabbed a bottle of lemonade, his stomach still rolling with that unpleasant feeling, barring his appetite from entrance.

“David Cullen is staring at you again,” Kiki said, leaning back where she stood in front of Matteo in the lunch line.

Matteo’s head shot up, and when he found David’s seat still empty, he widened his search, scanning the cafeteria, confused and alarmingly exhilarated. His gaze landed on David, at last, sitting alone on the opposite side of the cafeteria from the rest of his family. When Matteo’s gaze locked with his, David raised his chin in a nod of greeting, then angled his head in a “come over here” gesture.

Matteo just stared. Kiki shoved him lightly, breaking his daze, and he turned to look at her— he could feel how wide his eyes were, but he couldn’t seem to muster the self-control to school his expression.

“Dude,” Kiki said, tilting her head forward, her brows raised. “David Cullen is gesturing for you to go over there. Are you gonna go or what?”

“Um,” he looked back over his shoulder. David raised a brow. “Should I?”

“Yes!” She said. “And tell him to come to GSA!”

“Um…”

“Tell him we’re working on getting it officially changed to QSA,” she said, puffing out her chest with pride. “He’ll appreciate that.”

Matteo stifled a snort and nodded dumbly, holding his lemonade close to his chest with sweaty palms and nodding once before finally turning, crossing the cafeteria. Sara caught his eye as he walked past their table, and she followed his gaze with furrowed brows. When she caught sight of David, she gave him a surprised, questioning look. Matteo just shrugged and kept on moving forward, like a death march.

He stopped in front of David’s empty table, just staring at him. After a long moment, David laughed and kicked the chair in front of Matteo away from the table, gesturing for Matteo to sit.

“I’m not going to bite you,” David said, grinning with a kind of private amusement. He held his hands up. “Promise.”

Matteo sunk into the chair. David stayed quiet, studying him, like he was waiting to see what Matteo would have to say about this abnormality in their usual routine.

“Um,” Matteo said. “We don’t really… do this, do we? I mean. We’ve never… we’re eating lunch together, now?”

“Today we are,” David said. He looked at the lemonade bottle. “Well. We’re sitting together, at a lunch table, during lunch period.” He grinned, but he looked nervous, still.

“OK.”

“Is this OK?”

“It’s OK.”

“You seem confused.”

“I’m just… I didn’t think we were… like… I thought I was just kind of… your lab partner.” Matteo sounded like a complete idiot. He wanted to slap himself.

David screwed up his mouth. “Yeah. That’s…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve just been kind of… trying to… but…” He rolled his eyes at himself and crossed his arms on the tabletop, leaning slightly forward. Matteo felt himself leaning forward, too. Like he couldn’t help it.

“Sam says I should let you make up your own mind,” David said. He was addressing Matteo directly, but his tone, and something in the look in his eyes, seemed to indicate that he was kind of thinking out loud. “But you don’t even have all the information to really do that, so am I— I mean, what am I—” He huffed out a frustrated noise. “I don’t know what to do here. I don’t know what the right thing is. But I don’t… I want us to be friends. If you want that.”

Matteo nodded. He had to stop himself before he nodded so fast his head flew off. “I want that,” he said.

David grinned, his gaze focused again, searching Matteo’s. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“OK then.”

There was a long, silent moment.

David huffed. He seemed perpetually put out, at least whenever Matteo was around. Matteo quirked a brow.

“What are you thinking about?” David asked. He seemed mad that he had to ask.

Matteo shrugged.

“Please don’t,” David said. He sounded pained.

“I don’t think you’ll like it,” Matteo admitted.

David leaned ever-so-slightly forward. Matteo had to stop himself from catching his breath. “What is it?”

“Seriously, I don’t think you want to know.”

“I do. I absolutely do.”

Matteo chewed on his lower lip for a moment before releasing it with a breath. “I’m wondering what… you are.”

David sat up, and away, abruptly, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“Just what I said.”

“‘What I am.’” He raised a brow. “You mean what part of the Middle East my family’s from?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“My religion, then?”

“David.”

David sighed, leaning his head back, dragging his hands through his hair and down his face. “Amira’s gonna kill me.”

Matteo frowned. “What? Why?”

David looked down again, opening his mouth to reply, but his eyes caught on something over Matteo’s shoulder, and a little grin broke out, as he settled his gaze back on Matteo. “Your girlfriend is debating whether she should join us,” he said. “She thinks I’m harassing you.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Not that kind of harassing,” David said.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Matteo said.

David’s grin fell and then reappeared, reshaped. “You sure about that?”

Matteo grimaced.

David looked back over Matteo’s shoulder and then leaned forward again. “I guess she decided you can take care of yourself.”

“I can,” Matteo said, immediately infuriated with himself for sounding so defensive, like a kid claiming to be responsible.

David studied him again. “Tell me your theories,” he said.

“My theories?”

“You’re wondering what I am. You must have theories.”

Matteo winced. “Not any good ones.”

David’s grin grew. “That’s even better,” he said. “Let’s hear them.”

“Pass.”

“Come on.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Tell me how you stopped the van.”

David frowned. “You said you’d drop it.”

“Then don’t ask for my theories.”

David leaned back again. He didn’t seem to have a response for that, but he just looked so frustrated, like he so often did with Matteo, and Matteo couldn’t help but feel kind of bad. He didn’t know what he could possibly be doing to elicit that response, but he didn’t _want_ to frustrate David. He sighed and leaned a little closer, lowering his voice as David smiled, clearly surprised at Matteo changing his mind.

“Just… think comic books. _Umbrella Academy._ ”

David’s face didn’t give anything away. “Hmm.”

“ _The Witcher_?”

David frowned. “Warmer.”

Matteo dropped his gaze to the table, thinking. “Like… _Dark_?”

“What?”

“The show. The German show.”

“The time travel one?” David grinned. “How is that relevant?”

“How should I know?”

“Time travel is impossible, Matteo.”

“Oh, because stopping a van with your bare hands is so _possible_ , right?”

“Moms have stopped cars from crushing their kids before,” David said, raising his brows. “It’s called an adrenaline rush.”

“Yes, thank you, I’ve heard of it.” Matteo tried to roll his eyes, but he laughed, instead. “This is just…”

David looked nervous as he waited for Matteo to go on. But he didn’t. He just stared back at David. What was there to say?

The bell rang. Matteo looked up, surprised— he’d almost forgotten where they were.

David leaned back again. “You should get going,” he said. “Your not-girlfriend is waiting for you.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Matteo asked, already halfway out of his chair.

David shook his head. “They’re blood typing in Bio today. I get queazy at the sight of blood.” He said it in a rush, like it was rehearsed.

“Oh,” Matteo said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. He dropped back into his seat. David looked at him, surprised and confused.

“Aren’t you gonna go?”

“No,” Matteo said, shaking his head. “I get queazy, too. Like, pass out over a paper cut, kind of queazy.” He smiled abashedly. He’d have been more embarrassed to admit that if David hadn’t admitted it first.

David grinned, and it broadened until he was laughing.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” David said, shaking his head. “Nothing.” He stood, grabbing his bad. “I’m gonna go listen to music in my car. You want to come?” He was smiling, but the nerves were back, just behind his eyes.

Matteo stood, too, and nodded. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got wine drunk with my best friend and watched twilight the other day and we were basically just scream laughing the whole time. we're both of the mind that the other movies would be FAR superior if they 1. were directed by Catherine Hardwicke 2. had the Blue Tint and 3. DIDN'T RECAST RACHELLE LEFEVRE. twilight was literally just an indie movie that unsuspectingly blew up and hollywood decided that meant they had to hand the sequels over to Men and u know what? i will be bitter about it until the day i die
> 
> anyway "wow, he's a superhuman moron" --Robert Pattinson, Twilight Commentary, living legend, absolutely correct


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay!!!

David’s car was warm and smelled new. Matteo felt sleepy as he sloped down in the passenger seat, leaning his head back as David opened the center console and rifled around, looking for something.

Triumphant, he lifted up a CD and gave Matteo a wide grin.

Matteo raised his brows. “You use _CDs?_ ”

David nodded. Matteo hadn’t even noticed the CD slot in the car’s stereo until David made use of it. Apparently, despite the smell, this car was decidedly _not_ new.

A delicate instrumental song started up, and Matteo chewed on his inner cheek. He knew the song— “Clair De Lune.” It was on the Spotify playlist titled “Panic Attack Bangers” that he listened to whenever his anxiety started crawling up and over him like a human-sized insect. He looked over at David, careful to keep his face blank. “Classy,” he said.

David shrugged. “It calms me down.”

Matteo’s shoulders, which had tensed when he recognized the first few notes, fell, and he felt himself grinning.

“What?” David asked, already grinning back. Matteo just shook his head. He pulled a joint out of his pocket.

“You wanna hot box?”

David glanced at the school building nearest to them and back to Matteo. “Maybe not so close to campus?”

Matteo shrugged. “We could go park somewhere further away?”

David frowned. “I figured you’d want to go back to class after Bio.”

Matteo laughed. “You figured wrong.” He raised a brow, grinning. “I thought you were a pro at this whole ditching thing. You seem pretty nervous for a regular.”

David looked surprised. “I’m…”

“You and your family bail on school whenever the weather’s good, right?”

David schooled his expression. “Oh. Well, that’s different.”

Matteo laughed. “How, exactly?”

David looked like he was trying not to smile. “I guess it just feels more… allowed… when your legal guardians say it’s OK.”

Matteo smirked. “You’re kind of a goody two-shoes, aren’t you?”

David gaped. “I’m not!”

“I think you are.”

David huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

Matteo peered over at him and back out the front window. “So…”

“So…”

“What’s… I mean… what’s the deal with your ‘legal guardians?’” Matteo glanced over at him. He didn’t want to pry, but the whole situation was bizarre to him. He couldn’t help but be curious.

David shrugged one shoulder. “They took me in when my parents kicked me out,” he said. “Same with all of us.”

Matteo stared at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said. He bit his lip. “Do you miss them? Your parents?”

David sighed. “Yeah. I mean… yeah. But they weren’t good for me. It’s for the best. And it’s impossible for me to even try to go back now, so.” He glanced over at Matteo with that expression, again, of having said too much. Matteo just nodded. He thought he understood what David meant.

“It’s better to be with people who accept you for who you are,” Matteo agreed.

David studied his profile. Matteo couldn’t get himself to meet his gaze. Finally David nodded, looking away. He tapped a finger on the steering wheel.

“What’re your parents like?”

Matteo shrugged. “Charlie’s cool. I don’t really know him that well, but he’s a good guy, and he mostly lets me alone, which is nice. My mom’s kind of a tornado person, but she has Phil now, so. She’s fine.” Matteo sounded, even to his own ears, like he was trying to convince himself.

“Tornado person,” David repeated. He smiled. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Leaves destruction in her wake?” Matteo said, laughing. “I don’t know. She’s… I love her. But she was probably not really meant to be a mom, you know?”

“Yeah,” David said, with immediate understanding.

Matteo looked over at him. “So your siblings are all in the same boat as you?”

David nodded, a wariness in his expression now that hadn’t been there a moment before. “More or less.”

“What are they like?”

David’s face softened into a smile. “They’re great. Amazing, really. I feel really lucky.”

Matteo hesitated. “You guys don’t really… socialize much, though. I mean, with other people at Forks.”

David’s posture went stiff and he shrugged like a robot. “We’ve all moved around a lot. And people don’t really… get it. Our family. It’s just easier to stick to ourselves.” He shrugged more smoothly, running a hand through his hair, catching Matteo’s eye against his will. “There’s enough of us, anyway. It’s not like we’re lonely.”

His tone was defensive, and Matteo’s pulse sped up as he chewed on the inside of his lip and went over David’s words. They— he— didn’t _want_ other friends. Matteo was overstepping. That must have been implied. He felt himself freezing up.

David looked over at him. His eyes widened and he turned in his seat. “What? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

“I said something wrong.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Matteo.”

“It’s cool! I just… that makes sense. You guys don’t want any more friends.”

David’s face fell. “That’s…” He trailed off. “I mean… more friends wouldn’t _hurt._ ”

Matteo looked up at him. David gave him this soft little smile that made his insides melt like caramel in a sauce pan. He tried not to grin like an idiot, but it didn’t go very well.

“In that case,” he said, before he could lose the nerve. “Um… a bunch of us are going out Saturday night. We’re just, you know, hanging out, getting dinner. It should be fun. If you wanted to…” Sara would kill him for inviting someone without consulting her first. Their reservation was very specific, she would tell him. But he couldn’t care about that just then.

David bit back a smile. “Where are you guys going?”

Matteo shrugged. “A movie, or something. And then Florenzi’s? Do you know it? Apparently it’s legendary.”

David’s face fell and his hand gripped tight around the steering wheel. “I know it,” he said. He sent a forced grin Matteo’s way. “And I know you have to have a reservation weeks, if not months in advance. I can’t impose on that. I’m sure your table number is set.”

“It’s just an extra chair,” Matteo protested. “I doubt anyone will mind.” Sara would definitely mind, but that was for her to worry about, not him. He was suddenly desperate to have David there.

David shook his head. “Thank you. But this plan was Sara Adamcyzk’s doing, right?”

Matteo hesitated only a beat before nodding, begrudgingly.

David smiled at him, genuinely this time. “She wouldn’t like me jumping in at the last minute, I think.”

Matteo sighed.

David straightened in his seat, pulling his belt over his shoulder and snapping it in.

Matteo raised his brows. “Where are we going?”

“Well, since you’re done with school for the day,” David said, grinning over at him. “I thought I’d drive you home?”

Matteo’s stomach flipped. It was stupid— they were already in the car. It wasn’t like it was some huge deal. But something about getting a _ride home_ from David Cullen made Matteo feel like the protagonist in an ’80s movie. Like Molly Ringwald if she dressed worse and smoked, like, a lot more.

“What about my truck?” Matteo managed, after too long a pause.

“Sam can drop it off for you,” David said. The way he said it was like he and Sam had already worked this out, like this was a plan that’d been in action before they even sat together at lunch that day.

“Um… yeah. OK. If you don’t mind.”

David was already pulling his Volvo out of the lot.

Matteo suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. He didn’t know why it should be any different, them sitting together there when the car was in motion versus when it wasn’t, but as they pulled onto the main road a silence fell over them that felt stifling, like a thin sheet which suffocates you when you’re just trying to cuddle up under the covers.

What would a straight guy do in this situation? It felt like such a stupid question to be asking himself. A straight guy was just a guy who happened to not like boys. They weren’t a different species. Yet Matteo felt, sometimes, when he was trying to look like one, like a folkloric creature, some kind of shapeshifter or animal cursed by a witch, pretending to be human. Was he sitting right? Were his feet where they should be? Should he stare out the front window, or his window, or should he pull out his phone?

He probably _shouldn’t_ be glancing over at David as much as he was. But he just looked so relaxed, calm and collected and totally unmoved by the situation they were in— because it wasn’t anything to panic about. It was just a ride home. Just two guys in a car together, for a really pretty short amount of time.

By the time they pulled up in front of Charlie’s house, Matteo’s back was doused in sweat. He thought to himself that he might as well have just gone to PE. But David shifted the car into park and looked over at him, and he gave him this little awkward smile as his eyes roved over Matteo’s face, and Matteo smiled back, and it was worth it.

“I hope the school doesn’t call your dad,” David said, glancing nervously over Matteo’s shoulder toward the house.

“What? Why would they?”

“About you ditching?”

“Oh.” Matteo shrugged. “Charlie’s cool. Besides, I’m sure he’d hear about it even if they didn’t. There are no secrets in Forks.”

A laugh burst out of David like a car horn. Matteo raised his brows in surprise and confusion, and David pressed a fist over his mouth.

“That’s— right.” David cleared his throat.

“Are you—”

“Bye, Matteo,” David said in a rush. Matteo hesitated just a moment before nodding and getting out of the car. David didn’t drive away until the front door was shut behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Kiki was dancing by her car when Matteo walked up, trying to swing a stiff but grinning Mia around with her as Sara kept going up on her tiptoes to look around. From the way her face lit up when she spotted him, it seemed safe to assume that Matteo was who she’d been looking for. He almost wanted to laugh at the implication that she might spot Matteo from a greater height, as if he was tall.

“Finally,” Leonie said, all but glaring at Matteo as she tossed her hair and turned toward the door of the restaurant.

“Sorry,” Matteo said, glancing at his phone in his hand. “Am I late?” He knew he wasn’t, but it felt polite to ask.

“Not at all,” Sara said, rolling her eyes toward Leonie. “She’s just hangry. I _offered_ you the other half of my tuna sandwich, Leonie.”

“I didn’t want to spoil my appetite!”

“It was _three hours ago._ ”

Matteo felt himself glancing around inside the restaurant, as if David might have changed his mind at the last moment and shown up early to a reservation that wasn’t even under his name. He fought not to roll his eyes at himself.

“You’ll love this place,” Sara said, linking her arm through Matteo’s as the hostess, a bored-looking college girl, led them toward their table. “You’re Italian, right?”

“His _name_ is Matteo,” Leonie said.

Matteo nodded. “Half, yeah.”

“Do you speak any?” Sara asked, her eyes shining with excitement as they took their seats. Matteo delicately disconnected himself from her, and tried to angle his chair away from her without being too obvious about it.

“Any?”

“Italian.”

“Oh. Um, some. I’m kind of rusty.”

“You have to talk to Ludo!”

“Uh, OK?”

“Ludovico,” Kiki explained, from where she sat across from him, as she leaned forward. “He’s the owner. He’s the greatest. _No_ idea why he wants to live _here._ ”

“Hey!” Sara said, looking put out. “We have plenty to offer.”

“If you grow moss.”

They gorged themselves on bread and all ordered various types of pasta, and when the food had arrived and bowls were being passed back and forth so everyone could try every kind, which Matteo kind of loved, even though it was also kind of gross, an old man with thick white hair and Harry Potterglasses approached the table, smiling broadly. “Mia, my dear!”

“Ludo,” Mia said, smiling warmly up at the man. “Good to see you.”

Matteo quirked a brow at Sara.

“Wonderful to have you all here!” His eyes landed on Matteo. “Ah, a new face!”

“This is Matteo,” Sara said, beaming at the man. “He’s new in town!” Matteo snorted, his mind automatically going to John Mulaney. “He’s Italian!” Sara added. Matteo blanched.

“Oh, si?” The man grinned and spoke rapid Italian at Matteo. Matteo thought it _roughly_ translated to something along the lines of “how do you like my food?”

“Um,” he said. “Molto bene!”

The man laughed thunderously, which seemed like a disproportionate response to Matteo, even if his pronunciation _was_ pretty crap.

“It is always good to see new faces here.” He raised a brow at Kiki. “Have you persuaded this one, yet, for your club? To join?”

“QSA!” Kiki said, her face splitting in a smile. Matteo was surprised the old man had brought it up. This town kept surprising him. “Not quite yet, but we’re well on our way, right, Matteo?” She smirked at him. Then she looked back up at Ludo with a frown. “No David yet, though. I really thought the name change would get him.”

“I invited him tonight,” Matteo said, for reasons beyond himself. Sara gaped at him. Matteo looked between her and Kiki. “Um… you know. For the… cause.”

“Aw, Matteo, thanks!”

“Yeah. He didn’t want to intrude, though,” he looked at Sara. “He said you’d probably made the reservation for a specific number of people.”

Sara nodded. “Good. I like him.”

“Who is this?” Ludo asked, brows furrowed. “David? A friend of yours, Mia?” Matteo wondered what the connection was between the old man and Mia, specifically. Knowing this town, they might have been related.

“Cullen,” Mia explained. “Kiki’s been trying to get him to join for ages.”

Abruptly, the wide, jovial smile fell off the man’s face, and his posture, expression, and tone darkened all at once, like he’d stepped out into a snowdrift from a warm living room. “The Cullens are not served here,” he said.

Mia’s expression went sheepish, and Kiki hid a giggle in her napkin as Leonie and Sara exchanged a knowing look.

“Of course, Ludo,” Mia said. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“ _We_ didn’t invite him,” Kiki said. Matteo, confused, balked, making a helpless little sound of protest.

Ludo waved this off. “No problem. Just remember, si?” He beamed at them. “Enjoy!” and he wandered off, like he hadn’t just cryptically banned a family of foster teens from his restaurant.

“What was _that_ about?” Matteo wondered aloud.

Sara snickered. “I’ll tell you later, OK?”

Not OK, really— Matteo wanted to know immediately. But he nodded dumbly, and spent the rest of dinner staring around the restaurant, his eyes tracking the old man, drowning in curiosity like an internal bleed.

The moment the restaurant doors swung shut behind them, and they started up the street toward the local movie theater, where a whopping two movies played at a time, Matteo closed in on Sara. “So what was the deal with that guy and the Cullens?”

She grinned. “You’re gonna love this.”

Matteo quirked a brow.

“I don’t know how, like, serious he is about the whole thing,” she prefaced. “But… so, he’s Italian, right?”

Matteo nodded, trying not to look as impatient as he felt.

“So you know that Italians have, like, all these old myths, you know, about _vampires_.”

Matteo’s brows furrowed. “I thought that was more of a Romanian thing.”

“Sure, I mean, there too. The point is, Ludo believes in them. Or at least he acts like he does. Sometimes I think he’s, like, creating a caricature of himself, you know? Maybe to promote his restaurant?” Her face went thoughtful, and she laughed. “Who knows.”

“He believes in… vampires?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“That’s…”

“Right?” She laughed. “It’s kind of awesome. But anyway, that’s his deal with the Cullens.”

Matteo did not follow. He gave her an expression that communicated as much.

“Oh,” she said, “because he’s, you know.” She wiggled her brows. “ _Suspicious_ of them.”

“Suspicious.”

“Yeah.”

“As in…”

“As in, he thinks they’re vampires. Yeah.”

Matteo gaped at her.

She cracked up. “I _know,_ right?”

Like he was in a movie, the memory of the imprint of David’s hand in the side of Taylor’s van flashed before his eyes. Matteo felt all the pasta he’d eaten threaten to come back up. He slowed and put his hand on the nearest wall.

Sara touched his shoulder. “Matteo? Baby, are you OK?”

Matteo heaved, clapping a hand over his mouth. _Baby_. David’s aversion to blood. The van. The _van._

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Matteo said, probably redundantly.

“Are you OK?”

_No. Don’t call me baby again._

“I need to go home,” Matteo said. He turned, fast, and heaved again.

“I don’t think you’re safe to drive!” Sara said, her voice spiking with anxiety.

“I’m fine.”

“What’s going on?” Kiki asked. “Sara?”

“Matteo’s sick.”

“What? Omg, are you lactose intolerant or something, Matteo? Why’d you eat all that cheese!”

“He’s not lactose intolerant, Kiki,” Mia said, rubbing Matteo’s back. He hadn’t even seen her come up.

“I thought you were Italian,” Leonie said.

“You can be lactose intolerant and Italian, Lee, don’t be racist.”

“That’s not _racist—_ ”

“I’ll drive you home,” Mia said. “Where’s your car?”

There was no way. There was absolutely no way. It was absurd of Matteo to even consider it. But if it wasn’t so ridiculous, it would almost make sense. The van. David’s strange, color-changing eyes. The cryptic way David talked sometimes; the fact that none of the Cullens every really seemed to eat. The _van._ Matteo had asked David what he was. He’d almost _expected_ an answer like this. And David had seemed wary to respond— the kind of wary you get when you know you’ve been found out. He kept doing that, didn’t he? Giving Matteo these panicked looks, like he’d accidentally said too much.

Mia drove Matteo home. She glanced at him over and over, her face clearly conveying her concern. She was right to be concerned, Matteo thought. He was almost certainly losing his mind.

“Thanks,” he said, when she dropped him off in front of Charlie’s house.

“Yeah, of course,” she said. “I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks,” Matteo said, again, already starting to close the car door behind him. He’d have to get Charlie to bring him to his truck tomorrow. Irrationally, that made him almost unbearably annoyed.

“Listen…” Mia said. “About Sara.”

Matteo looked back at her, confused. Had she overheard their conversation? Was she about to tell him that it’d been a weird practical joke, telling Matteo that some old Italian man he barely knew believed the Cullens were vampires?

“I know she comes on a little strong,” Mia said. She peered at him, and Matteo was surprised to feel as if she was seeing right through him, as if she understood things about him he’d never said to her out loud. “I care about her. But I care about you, too.”

Matteo didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know Mia very well. She didn’t know _him_ very well. It seemed an odd thing for her to say, and he couldn’t guess at her motivations, besides.

“OK,” he said.

“Just… you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know?”

Matteo’s stomach dropped like a stone in a pond. He stared at her, his face as blank as he could manage, feeling stupendously vulnerable, found out. Like. Like a family of vampires, called out by an old Italian man who wore Harry Potter glasses.

“See you,” he said, and slammed the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a liar bc i looked it up and there are literally 0 movie theaters in Forks. you gotta love small towns


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small tw for homophobia (nothing explicit or prolonged! and not by any of the MCs)

Matteo stayed in bed late into Sunday afternoon, staring at his phone— switching back and forth over and over between his messages and Safari— between his unanswered text to David and the google search he’d done of the word “vampire.” He left the window open to smoke, but the low-level high didn’t help him feel like any less of an idiot. Vampire. Just the word, echoing in his head like it was a vast, empty cave, made him feel nauseated— and not because it might be true. Because he knew how ridiculous it was to even consider it. But how could he not? Under the circumstances?

He ended up watching _Buffy_ clips on YouTube and trying to keep his brief but passionate obsession with _Interview with a Vampire_ repressed. Then a message appeared at the top of his screen.

_ok. ill drive us, the girls can drive together?_

Matteo sprung into a sitting position. He felt himself grinning stupidly down at his phone, but he couldn’t help it. He really hadn’t thought David would agree to come. Especially not after all of Kiki’s griping about his refusal to join the GSA— now QSA. Matteo’d invited him to the screening put on by the Port Angeles LGBT center on the kind of whim that you know is hopeless but you can’t quite stop yourself from attempting, anyway. But David had agreed. And he wanted to drive Matteo. Matteo’s stomach did somersaults upon somersaults, like a kindergarten gymnast.

He took a second to consider the truly absurd fact that he was so excited to go to the movies with this guy while he was simultaneously doing very poor internet research on vampires, on the off chance he _was one_. Maybe Phil was right. Maybe he _did_ smoke too much.

David wasn’t in school Monday. It was an uncharacteristically sunny day, so he must have been off hiking, or whatever, with his family, as Sara’d told Matteo about. Now that Matteo thought about it— and with all that very surface-level vampire research in the back of his head— the whole ‘disappearing whenever the sun is out’ thing was pretty… suspect. He blanched, staring across the cafeteria at their empty table at lunch. If David showed up right now, would he, like… melt?

“I’m so excited for tomorrow night!” Sara said. She leaned heavily into Matteo’s side.

“Oh, yeah, Kiki, I was gonna tell you,” Matteo started. She quirked a brow, and Sara leaned away, looking put out for being ignored. Matteo squashed down a surge of guilt. “I invited David to the screening. He’s coming. I’m gonna drive with him, so that solves our car-pooling problem.”

Kiki gaped as Sara made a shocked little sound at Matteo’s side and Leonie dropped the apple pie in her hands into her apple sauce. A drop of the sauce splashed onto her cheek.

“Seriously?” Mia asked, grinning a little, looking back and forth between her girlfriend and Matteo.

Matteo nodded. If they were this stunned by this, he couldn’t imagine how they’d react if he told them his _theory._ It didn’t bear thinking about.

“Unbelievable,” Kiki said, shaking her head. She sat up. “Well. That’s great. It’s _about time._ ”

Matteo pressed his lips together to suppress a laugh. When he glanced back at Sara, she was frowning at him.

“What?”

“You’re driving with him?”

Matteo paused a second too long before shrugging.

“I thought we were going together,” she said, emphasizing _together_ with a look on her face that made Matteo want to duck under the table like an ostrich burrowing in the sand.

Matteo shrugged again. “Car pool,” he said, redundant and dismissive. Sara looked unhappy. Leonie, on her other side, looked euphoric.

“What am I gonna wear?” she said, seemingly to herself. She tugged at Sara’s sleeve. “Sara! Do you still have my purple shirt?”

“The booby one?” Kiki asked. Mia squawked and Leonie grinned wolfishly. Kiki grinned and shrugged, but she was blushing as Leonie nodded.

“That one. Yes.”

“Yeah,” Sara said. “I’ll bring it tomorrow. You can change before we leave.” She glanced at Matteo again, but she seemed to push past the disappointment over the driving arrangements, and gave Leonie her full attention as the other girl’s excitement and volume of speech escalated together.

Tuesday dragged like a nail down a chalkboard; it was sunny again, and the Cullens weren’t in school. But by three-thirty, the clouds had descended, back in their rightful place, and when Matteo followed the girls out to the parking lot, dragging his feet, thinking that at any moment he’d get a text from David, cancelling, he looked up, and his eyes landed right on David’s Volvo, somehow parked right out front. David was leaning against the driver’s side door, sunglasses on despite the cloud cover, and Matteo felt weak-kneed, like Judy approaching Jim Stark. Well. More like Plato, really.

“Matteo,” he called out, as if Matteo wasn’t already staring him down, as if he could see anything else, just then. Matteo picked up his pace, feeling his face flame up as the few people close enough to have heard David’s summon watched him, some with raised brows.

“Hey, girls,” David said, when Matteo was just in front of him. Matteo’s blush went even hotter, he’d forgotten the girls were even there. He glanced over his shoulder at them, now, as he shuffled on his feet, awkward as ever, tugging at the straps of his backpack.

“Hi, David,” Kiki said. “We were thrilled to hear you’re joining us. You a fan of _Desert Hearts?_ ”

David nodded coolly. “One of my favorites.”

“Awesome.” She smiled wide at him. “We’ll see you there, then.”

He nodded and looked back to Matteo. “You ready?”

Matteo nodded, feeling anything but.

David’s car didn’t _feel_ like the kind of car a vampire would drive. Maybe a hearse was too on the nose, but something black, at least— and expensive, probably. Like an Aston Martin or a Bugatti or something. At the very least a Benz. When he thought _vampire,_ a silver Volvo didn’t come to mind. Even if it was in pretty pristine condition, despite probably being from the early 2000s.

Matteo tugged on his seatbelt as David drove. He kept glancing over at him— David was smirking just a bit, and it seemed to grow every time Matteo looked.

“What?” David said, eventually.

“Oh. Um. Nothing. Just…” Matteo chewed on the inside of his cheek and cursed himself for saying anything. _Just I heard you might be a vampire? Shall we unpack that?_ He didn’t know why people let him out of the house, to be honest. He was a human lightning rod.

“I don’t know. I maybe… I might have a, um. It’s… a new theory, maybe. But it’s stupid. So let’s not just not.”

“No, let’s.” David’s hands were stiff on the wheel, but he gave Matteo an encouraging little smile as The Black Keys played quietly from the car speakers.

“It’s really stupid, though. And it’s not even mine. Just— that old man who owns Florenzi’s. Apparently he’s a few cogs short of a… uh… whatever… you call it.”

David’s smile vanished. “Hm,” he said.

“Yeah. And he’s got some crazy conspiracy theory about your family. But that’s kind of the worst, right? Like, you guys get enough crap from people.”

“You shouldn’t say crazy,” David said.

“Sorry. Yeah. You’re right. I read that, too.” Matteo just kept stepping in it. He rolled his eyes and looked out the window.

A long silence stretched between them. Then David sighed. “So what’s his theory?”

Matteo leaned his head against the glass. It was cold. “I really don’t want to say.”

“We could 20 questions it?”

Matteo waited a beat before nodding. He didn’t know if David would see it, but a moment later, he said, his voice strained, “Is it… an animal?”

Matteo craned his neck to look at David. “No. I mean, I don’t… I wouldn’t say so.”

“Is it on Netflix?” David grinned over at him with this one.

Matteo laughed. “Yeah. Multiple times.”

“Hm,” David said again.

“Why’d you agree to come?” Matteo asked, suddenly. David looked at him, clearly surprised at the question, and away again, back at the road.

“You asked,” he said, like it was so simple. Matteo’s heart clenched like a furious fist. He held his breath for a moment, and turned away again to close his eyes. He needed to get a hold of himself.

“Plus, I really do love _Desert Hearts._ ”

“I’ve never seen it,” Matteo said.

“Well, you might not love it,” David said, his voice light and brimming with humor. “There are no vampires.”

The silence that followed felt like it weighed a million pounds— crushing, like the void of space in those movies where the door of a shuttle flies off from a freak meteor shower, sucking astronauts out into the stars.

Matteo stared at the road. David was definitely speeding. He cleared his throat. “Um,” he said, looking over at David, who looked like he’d just stepped on a hornet’s nest, “you’re pretty bad at 20 questions.”

A laugh burst out of David. “Yeah… I am, huh?”

“So the crazy old man isn’t crazy after all?”

“Matteo.”

“Sorry. So. You’re…”

David didn’t help him out. Matteo cleared his throat again, and looked out his window, watching the trees fly past like hummingbird wings flutter.

“You’re a…”

David laughed dully. “I’m not saying it again, Swan.”

Matteo snorted. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“ _Swan._ Like you’re a jock in an ‘80s movie. Should I be worried about you pushing me in my locker?”

“You wouldn’t fit,” David said.

“Yeah. These new-fangled half-lockers. It’s jock oppression.”

David shook his head, but his grip on the steering wheel had loosened, and there was a hint of a smile tugging up on his lips, like children pulling on the legs of their parents when they’re ready to leave boring adult events.

“I didn’t mean what I said about _Desert Hearts_ ,” David said.

“David…”

“No, seriously. I think you’ll really like it.”

Matteo pressed his smile into the palm of his hand.

“I’m sorry, Matteo,” David said.

Matteo stared at the side of his head. “What for?”

“I’m dangerous. I’m putting you in danger. Just being here, with me, is…” He sighed, his grip tightening again as he shook his head. “It’s selfish of me.”

Matteo leaned back in his seat, not sure what to say. He gave himself a moment to really think it. _David is a vampire. David has just_ admitted _to me that he_ is _a vampire. A_ vampire _. Like, blood-sucking, coffin-sleeping, sun-melting—_ well, he wasn’t sure about all that. But. A _vampire._ And Matteo didn’t need a second to think about it. He believed it. It felt true, truer by far than the possibility that David, after everything Matteo had seen, _wasn’t_ something impossible; something Ed Wood made movies about.

Maybe he should have been more afraid than before; David thought he should, that much was obvious. But somehow he felt safer, now. His instincts had been right. There _was_ something about David that rightfully set off alarms. But he also knew that David was in control of himself. If he was going to do something to Matteo, he would have by now. But all he _had_ done was save Matteo’s life. And wasn’t someone who was aware of their own power, and careful to keep it in line, for fear of hurting someone else, really sort of… good? Like those huge guys you see who never so much as raise their voice; who work to keep their temper in check because they know that they, more than most people, could do real damage if they slipped up just one time.

David had taken his own strength and used it to push Matteo out of the way of a van that otherwise would have crushed him. Why should Matteo be afraid of that?

In Matteo’s experience, people who meant you harm didn’t warn you off ahead of time. They played nice. They _were_ nice. And they only broke you once they had your trust.

“It’s cool,” Matteo said. David cracked up at that. He laughed so hard and so long Matteo was a little afraid they’d get in an accident. But he kept on driving, smooth as ever. Soon enough, they were passing the Port Angeles city limit. Matteo was surprised— it usually took an hour, at least, to get out there. David must have _really_ been speeding.

“OK,” David said. “Let’s go watch some lesbian cowgirls.”

“Nice.”

The girls were waiting for them outside the movie theater. Sara latched onto Matteo as soon as he was in reaching distance. Matteo caught David staring at their linked arms, but David looked away as soon as he saw Matteo looking.

The movie was great, and Matteo felt himself relaxing, surrounded by all these people who wouldn’t judge him for liking boys, who’d probably love that about him, and sitting next to David, in particular, who kept leaning over to whisper funny little comments that really added nothing to the movie, but that Matteo could feel on his skin, in the form of David’s breath, like a hot iron. He was practically buzzing by the time the movie was over, and he all but hopped up the aisle and out of the theater. Sara hurried to keep up, but she had to pee, and Matteo slipped past her, and outside, beaming. He felt hopeful. Kind of powerful. And standing next to him, with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, was a _vampire._ Like, what a night.

Only David didn’t look as thrilled as Matteo felt. He was ducking his head, tucking his shoulders in. His hands seemed to be fisted in his pockets, like he was struggling not to clap them over his ears.

Matteo turned toward him, lifting a hand as if to touch his shoulder before catching himself, pushing the hand through his own hair, instead. “David?” he asked nonetheless. “Are you OK, dude?”

David nodded slowly; unconvincingly. “It’s just… I’m not great with cities. Crowds. It’s… loud, here.”

Matteo looked around them. He didn’t know if what surrounded them could really be qualified as either a city or a crowd, but he certainly understood social anxiety, in basically any form it could possibly take.

“Come on,” he said, lifting a shoulder in gesture, “come over here, let’s walk a little.”

David waited a beat before nodding, following Matteo up the street. The girls were still inside, all crowded in the girls’ bathroom, but Matteo figured it was fine, he and David would probably be back before the girls could even notice they’d gone.

He breathed the clear, post-rain air in deep as they walked. Movie theaters were a little stuffy, and it was a relief to be outside, even though he had loved the movie, and sitting so close to David in the dark.

He’d been sitting close to Sara, too— she hadn’t let go of his arm for the whole of two hours— but he didn’t really want to focus on that right now.

Matteo took out a joint and angled it toward David in offering. David smirked a little, despite still being a bit hunched in on himself. “That doesn’t really… do anything for me.”

Matteo gaped at him. “Seriously?”

David shrugged.

“You can’t smoke weed?”

“I mean, I can. But it’d be kind of like you smoking… a pixie stick, or something.”

Matteo snorted a laugh. “Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”

David shook his head.

“So,” Matteo said. “It’s loud here, huh?”

David glanced up at him, but didn’t say anything.

“I have another theory,” Matteo offered.

David sighed. “If it’s anything like the last one, maybe I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s just an extension of the last one,” Matteo said. “It’s… I was thinking, if you’re— since you’re— as a vampire, it must be kind of hard, being in crowds. Right? Like, the temptation, or whatever. To… feed.”

David cringed. He sighed. He was still sort of curled into himself, like a walking apostrophe. “That’s… part of it.”

Matteo frowned at his feet. “Part” wasn’t all. He’d missed the mark.

“I can…” David sighed, and shook his head, an incredulous look on his face like he couldn’t quite believe he was saying what he was saying. “You know how I get… frustrated with you?”

“You’re not the only one,” Matteo said.

David smiled, but it didn’t get up to his eyes. “It’s because… I can read minds.”

Matteo’s eyes bugged comically, and he stopped in his tracks.

David stopped, too, shrugging. “Since I’m being honest with you, I figure I might as well not go halfway with it. So. Yeah. I can, you know.” He fluttered his fingers by his temple and rolled his eyes.

He could read Matteo’s mind. He knew all the thoughts he’d had about him— about _them_. He knew Matteo was gay. Not, like, suspected, from looks here and there, or whatever. Definitively _knew_. And he knew how much Matteo wanted him.

Matteo wanted the earth to swallow him like old-school jungle-movie quicksand.

“But I can’t read yours,” David said. He smiled, tight-lipped, and shrugged. “No idea why. It’s… supremely frustrating, to be honest.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Matteo let out a breath of relief so heavy he felt a little light-headed.

“Yeah. So that’s why— crowds. It’s _loud._ I mean, literally. All those thoughts. Everything going on in everyone’s head— stuff they don’t want anyone to know about, you know? Passing thoughts, fixations. It’s all there. And it’s worse in cities. It’s like I can’t escape it.”

“I’m sorry,” Matteo said, taking a step closer, finally letting himself touch David’s arm. David leaned into it. “Why’d you agree to come?” Matteo asked, for the second time that day.

David looked up at him. “You asked,” he said, again.

Matteo felt frozen to the spot, like a sculpture or a finely-trimmed hedge, like in _Edward Scissorhands._ He stared at David, as David stared back, and he felt as if all the blood in his body had frozen, too; was just sitting there, unmoving, like stopped traffic. _David’s a vampire_ , he thought, _I wonder if he can sense that. The stand-still of my blood, right now. Like it almost wants him to strike._

He heard the word, as you hear the buzzing of a fly or the engine of a passing car. He didn’t register it— he was too enthralled, too totally enraptured with this exact moment, with the look on David’s face and the distance— the lack of distance— between the two of them, to possibly register anything outside of it, outside of them. It might as well have been any word, said to anyone.

But it wasn’t any word. It was a slur. It was _that_ slur— the one he’d heard before, but always from harmless nobodies he’d known; gone to school with for years; and it hurt, but it was harmless, like your older sibling pushing your buttons, because they knew where they were.

And it wasn’t at anyone. It was at them. David. And _him._ Matteo. This passing stranger saw them, and thought it. He looked at Matteo, and that’s the word that came to mind. And came out of his mind. Out of his mouth. It seemed to fill up the street, the city, like a cloud of putrid, polluting smoke. Matteo couldn’t actually breathe. He tried, but he couldn’t. And he wasn’t even smoking anymore.

David made a sort of growling sound at the man, and took a step forward. He looked dangerous, then— as dangerous as he’d hinted at, before. Matteo put up a hand to stop him. The guy, Matteo saw in his peripheral vision, looked properly freaked out. He backed up a few steps, and after speed-walking a couple of meters, he broke into a sprint. He looked over his shoulder at them as he went, like he’d seen a ghost.

Distantly, the girls’ voices rang out.

“David? Matteo? Matteo? David?”

Matteo lowered his hand and walked back toward the theater.

“Matteo—”

“I’m gonna drive home with the girls,” Matteo said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay y'all but i hope you enjoyed this chapter!! i've been looking forward to writing this one for ages. finally getting into the more david&matteo customized stuff. bye stephenie and thx for nothing (ok a few things) (the forks, washington setting was a galaxy brain move let's all be real)


	12. Chapter 12

Kiki beamed at Matteo when he dropped into his seat the next day in English. “Last night was so fun!”

Matteo nodded, staring up at the front of the room. “The movie was cool.”

“Right? I’ve watched it like a million times, but it never gets old.” She glanced over at Matteo and leaned toward him a bit. “Did something happen with David?”

“What?” Matteo snapped his gaze toward her, feeling himself stiffen up. “No. What? Why?”

She shrugged. “Just that you drove there with him, but you drove back with us.” She frowned. “Did he have somewhere else to be or something?”

“Yeah,” Matteo agreed quickly, taking the out.

“Where did he have to be so late on a weeknight?”

Matteo sighed, sliding down in his seat. “I don’t know, Kiki.”

She raised a brow at him. “Are you OK?”

He looked at her and away again. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Tired.”

She nodded, but she was still looking— Matteo could feel her gaze on the side of his face.

He spent the morning spacing out and staring out the classroom windows. On the way to lunch, he spotted Sara and speed-walked over to her. “Hey,” he said, when she looked at him, breaking into a wide, surprised smile. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, and her eyes went wide. Kiki, behind him, made a strange little sound. Matteo grabbed Sara’s hand and tilted his head toward the cafeteria. “Hungry?”

“Starving!” she said, over-enthusiastic.

Matteo followed her through the lunch line as she talked a mile a minute, though he hardly heard a word she said. He looked over at the Cullens’ table, despite himself. David was missing, though his siblings were there— except Sam, he noted. His brows furrowed as he followed Sara toward their own table. He glanced at the table he’d sat at with David that once— but he wasn’t there, either.

Matteo stared down at his food as the girls talked about the movie and the outing of the night before. Kiki declared that it’d been a rousing success, and that QSA should have more field trips. She said this as if there’d been any kind of school budget involved in their all driving to Port Angeles and buying their own movie tickets.

“Hey.”

Matteo’s head shot up, and he stared, wide-eyed, at David and his sister— so that’s where she was— standing with mostly-barren lunch trays, looking down at the group of them. “Um,” David said. “Can we sit here?”

“Of course!” Kiki practically threw herself to the floor in her effort to make room for them, as if there hadn’t _been_ enough room in the first place. Sam beamed as she dropped down beside Leonie, who stared at her with a look of unparalleled shock. David sat beside his sister— and next to Sara, so just one person divided him and Matteo. He glanced Matteo’s way, and Matteo dropped his gaze to his food again, gripping his plastic fork hard in his fist, so the divots dug into the skin of his palm.

An awkward little round of introductions followed, as if everyone at the table didn’t know who Sam was already, and as if she didn’t know them, too. Matteo turned his fork over and over in his soggy corn, like he was turning compost. “And you’re Matteo, right?”

Matteo looked over at the sound of his name; Sam was leaning forward, looking over at him with a knowing smile on her face. He stared back at her, and felt David’s eyes on him, too. “Yeah,” he said. He grabbed Sara’s hand. She went all soft and gooey like melted butter, and Matteo finally looked at David, to see him staring at their hands. Matteo squeezed once and pulled away again.

He didn’t say another word through lunch. Sam and Kiki got along immediately, and David and Mia talked across the table to each other in low tones with a sense of camaraderie usually exclusive to much more developed friendships. Sara kept glancing over at Matteo, but he just stared down, feeling like he was being slowly swallowed by a whale.

It was a relief when the bell rang, ending the lunch period, but only a split-second’s relief, as Matteo immediately remembered what his next class was. He mumbled about having to use the bathroom so he at least wouldn’t have to walk to class with David, even if Sara would be there as a mediator of sorts. In the men’s room, he leaned on a sink and closed his eyes, counting.He counted up and down and up again, like he was running up and down stairs. There was sweat at the back of his neck, too, as if he really had exerted himself. He only left when another boy came in and gave him a weird look.

David was already at their table, of course, when Matteo went into the bio room. He should have just skipped, but somehow that option didn’t occur to him until too late. He dropped into his seat with a barely-repressed sigh and leaned out toward the aisle, pulling out his phone immediately and staring down at it as if he were reading some very important and pressing text.

David didn’t say anything.

Mr. Banner came in a minute later, and promptly pulled down the projector screen. A chorus of whoops carried around the room as people caught on that it’d be a movie day. A sense of relief so overwhelming Matteo felt like he could have drowned in it flooded Matteo, and he leaned forward onto the table, much more relaxed and comfortable now that he knew he wouldn’t have to do some lab with David. The talking and the exchanging of papers and materials— it was all too much. He couldn’t take it right now. And luckily enough, he apparently didn’t have to.

The lights switched off, and Matteo’s relief drained out of him as quickly as it’d come.

In the absence of lecturing and light, a current was suddenly born, as if it were some nocturnal creature, yawning and stretching, uncurling from a long sleep. It started somewhere in Matteo— maybe his stomach or his chest, or his whole torso at once, like a bullet-proof vest strapped over him— and it ended squarely at some point in David that Matteo didn’t dare glance toward. It buzzed with electricity that Matteo felt absolutely everywhere, and he fought not to let his breath become labored, as he sat up and fisted his hands across his chest.

David let out a shaky little breath like the single splash of a tiny fish jumping in a pond, alerting you of life previously undetected, there. Matteo froze up. So he felt it, too. He must have. Matteo wanted to swear under his breath, but in the dead-quiet of the room, with only the droning voice of the nature documentary’s narrator interrupting, it would have been loud as a cymbal clapped right by his ear.

He looked over at David when he couldn’t stand not to anymore. David was looking back at him. There was something in his eyes, a bewildered kind of rage, but not rage, really, not like that first day. Something else. But just as fuming, like the scalding heat of a stovetop on a bare hand. Matteo looked hurriedly away.

David’s hands had been fisted across his chest, too. Matteo wondered if it was the same sensation that made him do it— that horrible, aching, overpowering need to reach out, and touch. He felt like a gallery-goer, being watched by a stern guard. _Don’t touch the art._

When class ended, and the lights came on, Matteo felt his shoulders drop, and the tension leak out his body like a loosed balloon. He let out a breath at the same moment as David, and they looked at each other again.

“I—”

“Gotta go,” Matteo said. He grabbed his bag so fast half its contents spilled out on the floor. David was kneeling beside him to help him clean up before Matteo could even really register the mistake. He stared as David held out his books toward him, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” Matteo said, taking the books, careful not to touch David’s hands.

David turned, and despite Matteo’s best efforts, he was, as always, the first one out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep saying this but from here on out, this is gonna be a lot less by-the-book (ha) and a lot more I Do What I Want bc frankly bella & edward's relationship is rushed and unhealthy, LOL, and also, ofc, just extremely, incredibly het


	13. Chapter 13

Charlie was home when Matteo got in after school that day. Matteo stopped, surprised to see him.

“Dad, hey. I thought you’d still be at work.”

Charlie looked over his shoulder at him. He was in his usual armchair, nursing a beer, but the TV was off, which was unusual for such a scene. Matteo took a step closer unconsciously.

“Took the night off,” Charlie said. His voice was that kind of sandpaper-y some men’s voices get when they’re trying not to convey a pool of unpleasant emotion welling up in them.

Matteo took a seat close to Charlie, on the couch. He looked at his dad as the man stared at the blank TV, still holding his beer can, but making no move to take a drink.

“You OK, dad?”

Charlie looked at him. “You remember Waylon Forge?”

Matteo tried to keep his face neutral. He didn’t, but his dad was clearly emotional over something, and Matteo didn’t want to be insensitive. “Sure. Um. Friend of yours, right?”

“He used to dress up as Santa,” Charlie said. “For Christmas.”

“Sure. Of course. Waylon. What about him?”

Charlie finally took a drink from his beer. “He’s dead.”

Matteo gaped instinctually, but closed his mouth hurriedly, scooting forward on the couch. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry, dad. Was he sick?”

Charlie shook his head, his eyes glazed like a good steak. He took another drink from his beer. “He was killed.”

Matteo felt his eyes go wide. “ _Killed?_ Like, murdered?”

Charlie grunted. “Killed by an animal,” Charlie said. “Some kind of animal. Probably a bear.”

“That’s awful.”

Charlie finally looked at him again. “You stay out of the woods, right? You don’t go wandering alone?”

Matteo shook his head. He’d never been the wandering kind, except when he needed to get out of view to smoke.

“Good,” Charlie said. “Keep it that way.”

“I’m sorry, dad,” Matteo said, and it felt pretty definitively insufficient, but what else could he do?

Charlie grunted again. Silence fell between them, until Matteo finally stood.

“I’d— I’d better go do my homework. You…”

Charlie nodded, waving him away. But he muttered as Matteo made his slow way up the stairs. “Strange,” Charlie said. “Some strange bear.”

Matteo hurried into his room and closed the door behind himself, staring out his bedroom window with his heart pounding. He dropped his bag on the floor, but he didn’t move.

Somehow Matteo hadn’t really thought about it until now. Maybe he was suppressing the thought on purpose, because he didn’t want it.

David was a vampire. It still sounded fake in his head, but it was fact, apparently. The inevitable follow-up fact to that one was that David drank people’s blood. What little Matteo had imagined so far had been along the lines of that teen movie, _Vampire Academy,_ that his friends in Phoenix had made him see with them and the group of girls they were into, before the group of them went to Hooters. In that movie, vampires sucked blood from people who’d agreed to it, like, in a kinky way, or because they wanted to be vampires, too, or something like that. Matteo hadn’t paid that much attention. Point was, they didn’t actually die. The people. They lived. They probably had iron deficiencies, but they lived.

But Waylon Forge was dead. And maybe a bear did kill him. _Some strange bear._ But maybe not. Matteo got stuck on that thought. _Maybe not._

Matteo didn’t want to think about David right now. He wanted to pretend he didn’t exist, and last night hadn’t happened, and that random Port Angeles passerby hadn’t said anything to him at all, because he hadn’t even been there. But this was a lot more important than the sick feeling in Matteo’s stomach when he thought of that moment, or those same friends giving him looks in the Hooters parking lot, asking him what his problem was, anyway.

Was David a murderer?

Maybe it wasn’t him that killed Waylon. But maybe it was one of his siblings. And if it wasn’t him, it didn’t mean he’d never killed anyone. If they killed people, they killed people. Did David _kill_ people?

Matteo had no idea what to think, or what to do. If he _did,_ what could Matteo do about it? Tell his dad? All that would do would be to get him sent to therapy and stripped of his weed privileges. 

And how could Matteo feel the way he felt, even now, about David, if what he was wondering was even a possibility? He felt sick again, and he splayed out on the bed face-first. He needed to talk to Renee.

Matteo turned over and listened to the rain. He pulled out his phone and dialed his mom, holding the phone up to his ear as he stared at the ceiling.

“Matteo!”

“Hi, mom.”

“Baby, where have you been? Why haven’t I been hearing from you?”

“I’ve been in Forks, mom. With Charlie. You were married to him?”

“Funny. What’s wrong? You haven’t been calling me. Now you’re calling me. Something must be wrong. What is it? I’ll come get you. I’ll buy you a plane ticket, you come right home, sweetheart—”

“You don’t even live at home anymore, mom.”

“Well, that’s—”

“I’m fine, mom. I just—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Charlie’s friend died. Waylon Forge?”

“Oh, my goodness. That’s just awful! Waylon was such a great guy! Well, a little creepy, but in a friendly way, you know? Charlie and him go way back, high school, well, Waylon wasn’t exactly nice to him back then, but you know, Charlie was Charlie, and—”

“Yeah. I guess I just don’t really… know what to do for him. You know? I feel bad for him. But I don’t know how to help.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Of course that’s what you’re worried about. My angel. Don’t you worry about that, honey. He’s the parent, remember, not you.”

Matteo couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that. She didn’t even seem to realize how ironic that was, coming from her.

“Maybe make him some food. Charlie always liked when I cooked for him.”

“Mom, you’re a terrible cook.”

“Well, that’s very rude. But also besides the point. It’s the thought that counts, Matteo, baby.”

Matteo nodded slowly. “Yeah. OK. Thanks, mom.”

“Of course, sweetheart. And call me more! Worrying about your dad, when he gets you all the time, meanwhile here _I_ am, haven’t heard from you in weeks—”

“I talked to you a few days ago, mom.”

“Texting doesn’t count!”

“OK. I gotta go. You know. Make Charlie food. Bye, mom.”

“OK, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you, mom. Bye.”

“Bye bye!”

Matteo found himself tiptoeing down the stairs, for reasons beyond himself. Charlie looked up when he entered the room.

“Um,” Matteo said. “I thought I’d make dinner?”

Charlie stared at him. A soft smile spread slowly across his face, not quite strong enough to show teeth, but it made Matteo feel a little better, anyway, with the hope that Charlie felt a little better. “Thanks. That’d be great.”

Matteo went into the kitchen.

“You need any help in there?”

“Nope. I got it.”

Charlie grunted again, and after another few moments, the sound of the TV warmed up the house along with the stove. Matteo let out a slow breath of relief, and put David and Hooters and vampires entirely from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short update but there'll be another soon!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter for y'all, i hope this may bring u some joy in these New Gen Announcement times of Sadness

Sara was getting antsy. Matteo could see it in the way she fidgeted beside him as much as on her face. He couldn’t exactly blame her. He knew what she wanted from him, and it’d been weeks, and they hadn’t so much as kissed. But even as he felt her growing ever closer to boiling over beside him, every day inching toward a confrontation of some sort, he couldn’t give her even enough attention to come up with some kind of game plan or strategy for the situation. David was sitting at their lunch table again. David, who was maybe, very possibly, a straight-up, no two ways about it, murderer.

Sam was there too. Somehow the idea of her being a murderer stressed him out just a little bit less. Maybe it was the simple image of what it’d be like to be killed by her. It was kind of a glamorous picture, as far as those things go.

Mia was leading the conversation, steering deftly like a conductor with the perfect solution to the trolley problem. She kept darting these little knowing glances at Matteo that made his stomach twist and flip like something being fried. But she kept them in safe zones, and she kept everything moving, and he felt grateful to her for that.

What was David aiming for, sitting with them again, dragging his sister along with him? He’d made it pretty clear, before, that he didn’t have any real need— or want— for more friends. And he was barely even talking, now. He let his sister do all the talking for him, as he seemed to space out, idly pushing food around his plate. Matteo wondered how nobody else seemed to notice that he didn’t eat any of it. Sam, too. But maybe other people just weren’t as obsessively fixated on the Cullens as Matteo was.

He scowled down at his own plate. Sara nudged him with her elbow. “Something wrong, babe?”

Matteo, entirely against his own will, glanced over to gauge David’s reaction to that. David stared back at him. His face was carefully blank, but something flashed in his eyes before he looked away.

Matteo looked at Sara and shook his head, giving her a tight-lipped smile that obviously didn’t convince her of anything. She raised a brow at him, but let it go. “So, do you wanna come over after school? My dad’ll be working, so we’ll have the house to ourselves.” She gave him a suggestive look that seemed incongruous to the current state of their non-relationship. But Matteo found himself nodding, anyway. He didn’t look at David, this time.

The bell rang, and the group of them shuffled out, breaking off towards their separate classrooms. This time Matteo couldn’t think of any excuse, so he walked with Sara on one side and David on the other, feeling all too many emotions for a walk of barely a few hundred feet.

Sara went to her table and Matteo stood aside to let David slip in first at theirs. He didn’t know why it seemed wrong for them to switch seats. It’s not like it’d make any difference.

“Thank you,” David murmured as he passed him by with all the grace of an acrobat gliding through the air. Matteo swallowed and took his seat.

Mr. Banner was running late again, and the room buzzed with idle conversation. Matteo sat stiffly, facing strictly forward, staring hard at the blank board at the front of the room. He lasted about thirty seconds before he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“My dad’s friend was killed last night,” Matteo said. “Waylon Forge. They went to high school together.”

He felt David’s gaze on the side of his face like a hot, damp cloth, but he didn’t dare look back. He could never quite think straight when he met David’s eyes, and right now, he really needed to think straight. He needed to know. There was no room, here, for doubting.

“That’s awful,” David said, with real sympathy. “Give him my condolences.”

Matteo flexed his hand on the table top. In his peripheral vision, he saw David look at it.

“He said,” Matteo started, dropping his hand to his lap. “My dad said that Waylon was killed by… some kind of animal. A bear or something. He didn’t sound very sure.”

David went silent again. The buzz of other conversations didn’t cease, though. Matteo wondered how much louder it was, for David— all those thoughts, everything that went unsaid. He didn’t think he’d be able to concentrate, if it were him. He wondered how much David could tune it all out— how it worked, technically. Then he swore at himself, internally— the one mind David couldn’t hear— and focused, again, on the matter at hand.

He finally turned to look at David. David was staring back, his face carefully blank again. Matteo raised a brow. In question, or… implication? He felt his own cheeks heating. Even he didn’t really know.

“I should have explained,” David said, his voice quiet. “I can only imagine what you’re…” David looked away, shaking his head. His blank facade vanished all at once; when he looked back at Matteo, he looked deeply agitated, almost distraught. “I don’t know how it slipped my mind. You…” He looked away, down at the table top. “I don’t… focus well. Around you.”

Matteo’s face flamed, he took in a shaky breath and went back to staring at the board. How could he feel like this, _now?_ Given what they were talking about? What was _wrong_ with him?

“I can’t explain here,” David said, still in that quiet, quick voice, like the lilting sound of a rapid piano piece being played several rooms away. “Will you let me explain? After school, maybe? I’ll drive you home again.”

Matteo stared at him. “I don’t know if I…”

“Of course,” David said, closing his eyes, shaking his head at himself, again. “I’m sorry. You wouldn’t want to be in a car with me— I’m an idiot. Just— we could go for a walk? In the woods?”

Matteo raised a brow at him. David pressed his hands over his face. “ _Near_ the woods,” David said. “In town. In a populous area. Full of people. You can keep your phone out, dial your dad’s number ahead of time. I think I have some pepper spray in my car, if you want—”

Matteo laughed, despite himself. “OK. Yeah. A walk sounds fine.”

David gave him a little smile; it didn’t quite meet his eyes, but it seemed hopeful, anyway, and Matteo felt better, already. David wouldn’t look at him like that— wouldn’t react like that— if he was a murderer. If he’d killed Waylon Forge, he wouldn’t react like that, right?

The rest of the class, and the day, seemed to take forever. Whatever David had to say to him, Matteo didn’t want to wait to hear it. He’d been on edge since his dad had told him about Waylon, and he wanted to be reassured as quickly as possible. He hoped he _would_ be reassured— but there wasn’t any point wondering, now. David would clear things up, one way or another.

Matteo struggled not to run to the parking lot as soon as the last bell rang, releasing them for the day. By the time he got there, David was already waiting for him, leaning against Matteo’s truck.

“Hey,” Matteo said.

David licked his lower lip. “Hey.” He straightened and nodded toward the truck. “We could drive somewhere, if you want? I’ll take my car and we’ll meet up?”

“Let’s walk,” Matteo said. David nodded, and they started off.

It wasn’t raining just then, in fact the clouds overhead were starting to part a bit, letting out a ray of sunshine here and there like loose thread unfurling from an old sweater. David cast a wary glance up at the sky and pulled up his hood, zipping his jacket and ducking his head as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Matteo watched him as he stepped out of the path of a kid on a skateboard and they crossed the street. “Is that…”

David’s head moved so fast, snapping to look at Matteo. He waited for Matteo to continue, and Matteo did, after taking in a shuddery breath, thrown, as always, by the superhuman quickness of David’s motions. He made Matteo feel like he was moving in slow motion.

“You’re not… you don’t burn, do you? In the sun?”

The sullenness of David’s expression finally let up a bit, as a grin tugged up at the corner of his mouth. “No. Myth.”

“Right. OK.”

“You burn more than I do,” David said, raising a brow.

“So then why…” Matteo gestured up, and pointed clumsily at David’s hood. David nodded in understanding.

“Most myths aren’t… completely unfounded,” David said, a nervous, almost embarrassed edge to his voice. He cleared his throat as they turned onto the main street. “I can’t really… explain it. Let’s just say sunlight makes me… less… inconspicuous.”

“Less inconspicuous,” Matteo repeated, trying to work out what that might mean.

David nodded. “I’ll… maybe I’ll show you some time. If you want.”

 _I want,_ Matteo thought, but he didn’t say it, because, once again, he was getting off track. He needed to know, first, before he could indulge himself in any other curiosities about what it really meant; David being a vampire.

“Should we get coffee?” he asked, indicating Mocha Motion, the tiny wooden coffee shop that looked more like an oversized booth than a proper cafe.

David raised a brow at him again, and Matteo groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Right. That’s right. You don’t… drink coffee.”

“I’ll get you something,” David said, slipping his wallet out from his back pocket. “My treat.”

“No, that’s—”

“Hi,” David said, stepping up to the window. He looked over his shoulder at Matteo. “What do you want?”

“Um. An espresso?”

David looked back at the window and gave the girl working there a wide, warm smile. She looked like she might literally swoon. “One espresso, please.”

“Coming right up,” she said, accepting David’s money before Matteo could protest further. When the coffee came, David tipped the girl— over-generously, from the looks of it— and turned, handing Matteo the coffee with his first real, wide smile of the day. Matteo’s heart beat in double time, which didn’t bode well for his decision to have an espresso.

David looked up and down the street. “Where should we go?”

“The skate park?”

David nodded, and they set off again, along the sidewalk, as school traffic passed by on the right side of the road. Matteo was probably imagining it, but he thought he felt the gazes of student drivers, staring out their windows at the two of them— wondering what they were doing together. He swallowed a pull of his coffee, burning his tongue and the roof of his mouth all at once and trying not to let it show on his face. From the little chuckle David gave beside him, it seemed safe to assume that he’d failed.

Matteo wanted to start in on the questioning immediately, but they were in town, with people walking by. So he stayed quiet as they walked past the beauty salon; the fish taxidermy shop; the pizza place, Home Slice; and True Value Hardware. But his resolve broke quickly enough.

“So it wasn’t you?” he asked, trying to hush his voice, which was probably only all the more suspicious. “Or your siblings?”

David kept his cool, smiling at an older woman passing them by as Matteo’s face flamed— the skate park wasn’t that far away. He should have just kept quiet until they got there; until they were sitting, alone, somewhere where there was very little chance of them being overheard.

David looked at him as Matteo hid his shame in another drink of his coffee, which he couldn’t even taste, now, thanks to the whole burning-his-mouth-to-oblivion thing. “No,” David said, his voice quiet, too, but in a way that somehow seemed inherently _better_ done. “It wasn’t us.”

Matteo nodded and left it at that, for now. Relief flooded him, though, really, the answer to _that_ question was only a bullet point on the larger, implied question behind it. _Did you kill Waylon Forge?_ was just a synecdoche for _Are you a murderer?_

Matteo stared at his feet as they walked. At one point, David had to physically hold him back with his arm to keep Matteo from getting hit by a turning car as they crossed a side road. Matteo just sighed and muttered a thank you, as David chuckled quietly, again, beside him.

When they’d turned onto a residential street, Matteo glanced, almost without meaning to, into people’s windows. He saw a kid, a few years younger than himself, playing video games on his couch; a woman, his mom’s age, standing over a kitchen sink; an older man watering a house plant. He felt David looking at him, and looked back.

“You’re watchful,” David said. Matteo felt his face go hot again.

“My mom says I’m kind of a snoop,” he said, looking at his feet as he kicked at a rock. He shrugged. “I like seeing what people do when no one’s looking.”

“But you’re looking.”

Matteo looked at him again. “Yeah, well.” He smirked. “Not all of us can read minds, so. I make do.”

David grinned back and shook his head, looking forward as they turned again, getting much closer to the skate park, now. “Mind-reading isn’t all it cracked up to be.”

“Superheroes always say that.”

David snorted a scoff. “I am _not_ a superhero.”

Matteo stayed quiet. He felt David looking at him again, probably desperate to know what he was thinking, now. But Matteo thought it must be pretty easy to guess.

 _If you’re not a superhero, what_ are _you?_

“Up here,” Matteo said, turning again, like David didn’t know where they were going, like the town was big enough for anyone who’d been there for longer than five minutes to get lost.

The skate park was empty, surprisingly, given that school had only just ended, and the sky was still relatively clear. They ignored the picnic bench in favor of parking themselves beneath the shade of some of those tall trees Washington was famous for, and Matteo stared up at the green above him and took in a long breath. Suddenly it _did_ smell like rain.

David didn’t beat around the bush. “I haven’t killed anyone,” he said.

Matteo dropped his head, staring at him with wide eyes. Somehow, despite its being the whole purpose of this conversation, he hadn’t expected David to be quite so direct as that. “OK,” he said, after a long pause.

“That’s not to say I never will,” David said, his tone dark with an anger Matteo found confusing.

“It’s… not?”

David looked up at him and shook his head. “I’m young, compared to the rest of my family. And I’m lucky. I’ve had them since the beginning. They’ve looked out for me. But my self-restraint isn’t impenetrable. If I got hungry enough, I can’t say what I might do.”

Matteo couldn’t do anything but stare. He was stuck on that phrase— _I’m young, compared to the rest._ “How… old are you?”

David smirked. “ _That’s_ what you want to know, from all that?”

“Shouldn’t it be?”

David huffed a laugh. “I’m seventeen. I mean, my body is seventeen.”

Matteo raised his brows. “OK. How long has it… _been_ seventeen?”

David grinned at Matteo’s understanding. “A couple years.”

“A couple, as in two? So you’re… technically nineteen?”

David nodded, his eyes steady on Matteo as he processed that. Matteo stared at the grass. He looked up at David and raised a brow. “And you’re still a junior?”

David laughed and shook his head, grinning at Matteo like he couldn’t quite believe him.

“How old are your siblings? And the doctor and his wife?”

“They vary. The oldest is Jonas, he was turned in 1663. The youngest, besides me, is Carlos. He was turned in 1935.”

Matteo was full-on gaping now. “ _1663?_ ”

David nodded.

Matteo closed his mouth and finished off his espresso. He leaned back against the tree. “OK. That’s…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I keep getting distracted. You were saying… you’ve never killed anyone.”

“Yet.”

“OK, sure. Yet.” Matteo opened his eyes. “So what do you… eat? Is it like that— um, I mean, do you just— like, drink from people, but not kill them?”

David shook his head. “That would be very difficult, unless that blood was sourced from blood banks, or something. Which is its own kind of unethical.”

Matteo’s brow furrowed. “Why would that be difficult?”

David frowned. He tugged down on his beanie. Matteo loved that beanie. He wondered if it was soft— what it would feel like under his hands. What David’s hair would feel like between his fingers. He blushed and cast his gaze to the ground again, hunching his shoulders.

“When we… once we’ve begun to feed, it’s very difficult to stop. A sort of… frenzy sets in. You know, like— the way you don’t interrupt an animal when it’s feeding, because it’ll get aggressive?”

Matteo nodded, staring again, fascination overwhelming him as he felt himself leaning closer to David, who leaned ever-so-slightly away. David cleared his throat. “The only vampire I’ve ever known with the willpower to restrain themselves that way was Jonas. He’s the one who turned most of us— because he was capable of stopping.”

Matteo gaped again. “He turned you?”

David nodded. “We were dying. All of us, separately. He presented us with the option— those of us who were conscious enough to be asked. And we took it.”

“Were some of you… not conscious? When he…”

David nodded, his eyes on the ground. “Amira,” he said. “And Hanna. But… Amira… might have said no. Had she… been given the choice.”

Matteo thought about that. He wondered what that meant for her, now. He shook his head again. “So where do you get blood from, then? If not from people?”

“Animals,” David said, and it was so obvious a solution Matteo didn’t know why he hadn’t even considered it.

“Oh. Right.”

David smirked. “We call ourselves vegetarians,” he said. “It’s a bad joke, I know.”

Matteo chuckled. He looked at the side of David’s face, as David stared off into the trees, seemingly lost in thought. He’d said _yet._ He seemed to think it was inevitable, that he’d slip up, that he _would_ be a murderer, even if he wasn’t one now. Maybe that was based on his chosen family’s experiences— Matteo didn’t press, on that; it somehow felt like it wasn’t his place to ask. But Matteo felt, with a certainty like he’d almost never felt about anything before, except when he was a pre-teen and was suddenly, horribly positive of his sexual orientation, that David wasn’t a killer. That he wouldn’t ever be. He almost thought that even if he _did_ kill someone, he wouldn’t _be_ a killer. It’d be something horrible he’d done, entirely against his own, conscious wishes and beliefs. It seemed impossible to even imagine that it’d ever be who he _was._

“I should have known,” Matteo heard himself say.

David barked a laugh, meeting his gaze again, his own baffled and almost amazed. “Of course you shouldn’t have,” David said. “I’m a monster. You were right to assume I’d done monstrous things.”

Matteo frowned at him. “I don’t think you’re a monster.”

David looked away again and shrugged one shoulder. “Think what you want.”

Matteo wanted to push the issue, but he didn’t know if they were really there, yet. As… friends. It felt like a strangely intimate subject— talking someone out of their self-loathing, however singular the root of it might be, and this one was definitely uncommonly singular, was close-to-best-friend territory. Matteo was… not that.

He sighed and kicked at the dirt. After a long stretch of silence, tense and charged with a flurry of complicated emotions, he sighed. “I’m sorry about the other night.”

David reeled back in surprise. “You don’t have to—”

“I was rude,” he said. “The next day, too. I gave you the silent treatment. Like we’re seven year-olds. And like you even did anything wrong.”

David laughed, but it was half-hearted, and he shook his head. “Don’t apologize, Matteo.” He raised a brow. “I was rude, too.”

“You were not.”

“No? Your first day at Forks? That wasn’t rude?”

Matteo let a smile slip through and tucked in his chin, unable to maintain eye contact for long, feeling a buzzing in his skin like a swarm of honeybees was nearby, and drawing ever closer. He felt a raindrop on his hand. “OK. You were a little rude.”

David smiled and put out a hand. “Let’s call it even?”

Matteo laughed at the gesture but accepted the handshake anyway, which kind of lingered and then awkwardly turned into a high five. He felt sort of hot all over, even as another raindrop hit the back of his hand. He looked up at the sky. “We should probably get going.”

David looked up, too, and seemed surprised to see the rainclouds there, which was pretty much absurd all on its own— it should never be a surprise to see rainclouds in Forks. “Oh. I guess you’re right.”

He stood first, and offered his hand to help Matteo up. A rush of warmth and relief flooded Matteo at being allowed the chance to touch him again, and for the second time in less than a minute, they took a second too long to let go of each other, a second longer than was just friendly and unremarkable. Matteo stared at David as David stared at him, and something swam in Matteo’s stomach that felt more inevitable and treacherous than the storm brewing overhead.

Matteo’s phone buzzed in his back pocket just as they started off, back towards the high school and their respective cars. He pulled out his phone as David took the coffee cup from his hand, brushing his fingers again before lobbing it what must have been fifty, sixty feet to a trash can. Matteo gaped at him before looking down at the screen.

_where did u go??????? I thought we were hanging out????_

“Oh,” Matteo said. He looked at David, who raised a brow in question. “I forgot about Sara.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorryyyy

Matteo sighed when he woke to the sight of a sunny sky the next day— it was clear of a single cloud, like the storm the night before had cleared them all out. David wouldn’t be at school. Matteo’s motivation to go, himself, plummeted as he stared out his window.

Charlie, as usual, was gone by the time Matteo made it downstairs. The kitchen window had been left open, and sunlight warmed Matteo’s skin as he poured himself a bowl of cereal— he stood right there to eat it, basking in the heat, rare as it was in Forks, like a cat in a windowsill.

Sara and Kiki were standing together outside of the English room when Matteo arrived, and over Sara’s shoulder, Kiki caught Matteo’s eye and gave him a wide-eyed, sympathetic look. Sara turned and outright glared.

“You stood me up,” she said, before Matteo could even get in a greeting.

“I’ll see you guys,” Kiki said, overly-cheery, wincing toward Matteo before dashing inside. Matteo sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to. I got sidetracked, it totally slipped my mind.”

“You could have texted me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just felt like an idiot for forgetting.”

“You are an idiot for forgetting.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Matteo’s stomach twisted and writhed. He regretted it even as he spoke. “You could come over today, if you want? Charlie works after school.”

Sara didn’t seem totally appeased, but she nodded, anyway. Matteo nodded back, and waved once more as he inched past her, into the English room.

Kiki cleared her throat when he sat down.

“What,” Matteo said, not looking at her.

“Hm.”

Matteo looked up. “What?”

Kiki shrugged. “Nothing.”

“ _What_ , Kiki?”

“It’s just—” she shrugged again, all overly-performed nonchalance, brushing her hair over her shoulder like Regina George. “When Mia and I first started going out— I would’ve forgotten my own name before I forgot we were supposed to hang out.” She looked over at him, quirking a perfect brow. “She was all I could think about, you know?”

Matteo looked out the window at the sunshine. The now-acursed sunshine, which he would have been thrilled to see, when he’d first moved to Forks. 

“Yeah. I know.”

She left a pregnant pause, waiting for him to say something else. He didn’t— just stared at the names etched into his desktop. _Angela + Ben._ Gay kids never etched their names into desks, he thought.

Lunch was strange and tense, back in their original group— the absence of David and Sam was noticeable, like a dish that used to taste good enough, until you tried it with spices that weren’t usually there, and now, without them, it was plain, entirely dissatisfying.

Maybe that was just Matteo.

Sara walked with him from gym to his truck after school, not giving him an inch of leeway to forget their plans, this time. He opened her door for her, mostly because she stopped beside it when they walked up, and kind of looked at him, expectant.

Matteo could feel himself getting angry with her— resentful— and he swallowed that anger, turning it in on himself, because what had Sara done? Thought he was nice, thought he was cute, wanted to be close to him?

He slipped on the driveway, catching himself on the mirror of the truck, and Sara barked a surprised laugh that suddenly and kind of absurdly settled his stomach, like a good swallow of Pepto Bismol. She grinned at him as he smiled up at her, and he straightened, carefully, and bumped her shoulder on his way to the door. “Come on. I’ll make us pasta.”

“You can cook?” she asked, all excited and swoon-y, which struck Matteo as kind of funny, in a nice, non-traditional kind of way— _I love a guy who can cook!_

“I can cook pasta,” he said. “Better than other stuff. But I guess I know the basics. My mom wasn’t much of a cook.”

“Right. You lived alone with her before Charlie, right?”

He nodded, shirking his jacket and starting toward the kitchen. He put water on to boil and turned, leaning against one counter as Sara lifted herself up to perch on the other. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why’d you leave?” Sara wondered, brows furrowing, probably wondering why she didn’t already know the answer to this.

“My mom married a guy who has to travel for work,” he said. He phrased it intentionally— thinking of how he’d tried to explain to David, how frustrated he’d gotten at Matteo’s vagueness. He looked at the floor and licked his bottom lip. The sun was still streaming into the kitchen, even this late in the day.

“Oh, cool,” Sara said. “So, what kind of pasta are you making?”

“Penne? You down?”

She nodded, grinning wide. “My mom used to make penne a lot.” Her smile dropped, and she looked down, tugging on a hole in her jeans.

Matteo quirked his head and turned to get the pasta out. “Used to?” he asked.

Sara was quiet for a long half a minute. Matteo stared into the pot, not wanting to pressure her to speak. “She left,” Sara said, finally. “A few years ago.”

Matteo was surprised. He thought he knew everyone’s drama, in Forks. It wasn’t hard to keep up, and everyone was in each other’s business, pretty much all of the time. People _still_ talked about his own parents’ divorce, even all these years later.

“I’m sorry,” Matteo said, after he’d shaken in the pasta. He crossed his arms over his chest again. “It sucks.”

Sara laughed. “Yeah. I guess you get it, huh?”

Matteo shrugged. “I was pretty little when Charlie and Renee split up,” he said.

She shook her head. “It’s so weird you call them by their names.”

“I don’t, all the time,” he said. He grinned sheepishly. “And I never call Charlie that to his face.”

Sara laughed. “My mom would kill me if I ever called her by her first name. I didn’t even know it when I was little.”

Matteo nodded in understanding. Silence stretched between them as Matteo prepared the sauce. “So… how are your stories coming along?”

Sara smiled a little, abashed. “I turned one in,” she said. “In Creative Writing.”

“Oh, cool! I didn’t know you took that.”

She nodded, still smiling. “I got an A.”

“That’s awesome!” Sara blushed and ducked her head. Matteo really was happy for her. He liked Sara. She had this happiness about her, light like powdered sugar on a donut, that was contagious, calming, like she didn’t mind if you didn’t want to be in a good mood that day— she’d do it for you.

He knew he should tell her, in clear, unmistakeable terms, that he didn’t like her the way she liked him. Especially with the way every day grew and swelled the bud of longing in his stomach every time he so much as thought David’s name. It wasn’t fair to her. But she looked so happy, smiling at him, and it was easy to let this be. It wouldn’t be easy to end it— to go all in, trying to make something real and tangible of his tangling vine of feelings for David. It wouldn’t be easy to come out.

“Everyone knows,” Matteo had said to Andrew Matthews, the one guy he’d ever kissed, the drama nerd who wore scarves and only hung out with girls who hung on his arms like he was a little dog in their purse. “Everyone already knows.”

“It’s different when they know, and when they _know_ ,” Andrew had said. “You know that, Matteo. You’re saying it’s not different for you, now that people know?”

“Only because they didn’t before,” Matteo’d said.

“They did, Matteo. They already did.”

Matteo and Sara ate their pasta on the couch while watching _You’ve Got Mail._ “I love Tom Hanks,” Sara said, like girls said, _I love Harry Styles_ or _I love Timothee Chalamet._ Matteo grinned. He liked that she liked Tom Hanks. His belly pudged out over his jeans in the movie, and he dressed like someone on _Queer Eye_ before they met the Fab Five. Matteo smiled into a bite of pasta as Sara let out a dreamy little sigh.

They did bio homework when the movie was over. Sara kept leaning over, looking at his work, sweetly and delicately correcting him, and explaining what he’d done wrong, whenever she spotted a mistake.

“I want a house like this someday,” Sara said, stretching back on the couch and casting a gaze around.

Matteo quirked a brow and followed her gaze. He didn’t see anything remarkable enough to pine after.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with my house,” she said, her cheeks heating. “Just— I like second floors. I like fireplaces and separate rooms for the kitchen and stairways tucked into the wall like that.” She indicated his stairway, and he stared at it, trying to see it through her eyes.

He thought about living in this house someday, having it as his own, having his own kid planted on the couch as he made dinner in the kitchen— waiting for his husband to come home from work.

“Yeah,” he said. “I like it too.”


	16. Chapter 16

Matteo went immediately to the window the next morning to check the weather, as was starting to be something of a custom for him now. The sky was thankfully cloudy, and fog hung low over the ground, so he almost missed the boy standing by the curb at the bottom of his driveway, hovering over his bike as he stared at Matteo’s front door.

Matteo gaped. It was David. David was there, outside Matteo’s house, scanning the windows until his eyes locked with Matteo’s. He grinned and held a hand out in greeting.

Matteo spun away from the window and dashed down the stairs, two, three at a time, nearly lobbing himself onto the floor at the bottom, only just catching himself on the banister. He straightened and patted down his hair, hurrying toward the front door. When he opened it, David was still at the bottom of the driveway. He held a hand up again and glanced from Matteo to his bike and back again.

“I thought we could ride to school together,” David said. “I saw your bike when I dropped you off the other day. Only if you want to—”

Matteo glanced where David had indicated, toward the side of his house where he now vaguely remembered a rusty old bike leaning against the wall, covered in cobwebs, long-neglected. “Give me five minutes,” Matteo said, looking at David again.

David smiled. “Take your time.”

Matteo backed into the house, still holding the door. “Ten minutes,” he said, and slammed it, twirling so he did fall, finally, hitting his knee against Charlie’s entry table and swearing loudly before racing back up the stairs.

When he’d dressed, brushed his teeth, and poured cereal directly from the box into his mouth, Matteo slammed the front door behind himself again, stopping a second to just stare at David, sort of stunned into immobility, before speed-walking over to his bike.

It was as spiderweb-laced as he’d expected, but otherwise it seemed to be in pretty good shape. Matteo wheeled it down the driveway and stopped at David’s side.

“Hello,” David said, smiling, his eyes soft like chewy caramels, and about the same shade.

“Hi,” Matteo said.

“You ready, then?”

Matteo adjusted his backpack straps and looked down at the bike. “Um,” he said. He looked back up at David. “I actually… I haven’t really ridden in a while.”

“How long is a while?”

Matteo scrunched up his face, sheepish. “Years. I don’t really remember how.”

“Well, don’t worry,” David said. “Your body probably remembers. It’s easy.” He smirked. “Just like riding a bike.”

Matteo groaned, but he swung his leg over the bike, anyway.

“Want me to hold you steady?” David asked.

Matteo’s stomach dropped and he stared straight ahead as he nodded.

David set his own bike down on the wet grass; birds chirped cheerily and the cold, thick air seemed to go still around them as David put one hand next to Matteo’s on the handlebars, and the other on Matteo’s back. Matteo swallowed and lifted his feet up off the ground, wobbling as he kicked around until he found the pedals.

“I got you,” David said, a warble of a laugh in his voice as he followed through, holding Matteo steady with obvious ease. Matteo remembered the van, David’s hand imprinted into its side, and he took a breath. He began to pedal, and for a minute David walked along with him, cautious and close, until Matteo nodded.

“I think I got it,” he said, whispering, for some reason, like there was something delicate in the air which he didn’t want to startle away.

David’s hands left, and Matteo’s back felt cold, but he kept on rolling, only wobbling for a moment, before easing to a stop. He looked over his shoulder with a broad grin. “I got it!” he said.

David biked up to his side. “Ready, then?”

The wind whipped around them as they set off, quickly picking up speed as Matteo settled into the old, familiar feeling of a little metal beast below him. The rain-slicked roads didn’t throw him, either— this was where he’d first learned to ride, this was what he knew. He and David sent each other wide grins as they went, but neither of them disturbed the silence with speaking, letting the early morning sounds which only a forest town can provide make up the soundtrack for their ride.

Mia and Kiki were standing close by their own bikes when Matteo and David rolled up, and they smiled and greeted them enthusiastically, seeming unsurprised at the sight of the two of them arriving together. Matteo felt like it should be recognized as more of an occasion. He felt like everyone else was staring at them, and his face flamed as he avoided David’s eyes, chewing on his lower lip, his stomach performing gymnastics as they walked into school side by side. He knew he was being ridiculous. No one was looking at them— nothing was strange enough, here, for that. Besides, the girls were there, too.

Sara was waiting for him outside of the English room again. She, at least, seemed surprised to see David.

“David! Good morning!”

“Morning.”

“Do you have English with Matteo too?” She sounded almost jealous, which was an iceberg of irony. Matteo tugged on his backpack strap.

David shook his head. “We just came to school together,” he explained.

Sara raised a brow. “Oh?”

“We rode bikes,” Matteo said, in a weird rush. His stomach was flipping again, but not in a pleasant way, anymore. He felt kind of queasy.

“Cool,” she said, smiling. She leaned up to kiss Matteo’s cheek. “I just wanted to say good morning,” she said, close to his face, holding his hand. “So. Good morning.” She smiled, her eyes twinkling with suggestion.

Matteo nodded. “Good morning,” he echoed. She smiled and scurried off, waving at them as she left.

David looked up from staring at the ground. “I’ll see you at lunch,” he said. Matteo couldn’t read his tone of voice. He swallowed and let a beat of silence stretch between them. Finally, David turned to go. Matteo grabbed his wrist, and David glanced at him, his expression still unreadable, but he didn’t tug away.

“Um,” Matteo said. “Thank you… for. You know. Holding me steady.”

David’s eyes searched his, and Matteo’s heart beat hard and heavy in his chest. “Yeah,” David said. “No problem.” He hesitated a moment, then started to pull away, but instead of just tugging, he turned his wrist, his hand, in Matteo’s grip, so their fingers brushed together, sending a surge of fire up Matteo’s arm, roaring in his stomach like a tiny dragon waking, yawning, inside him. He swallowed as David licked his lip, a similar twinkle in his eye to the one Sara had given Matteo just moments ago, before he turned and walked away without a backwards glance.

Matteo fell back against the wall.

Mia laughed. Matteo turned his head fast, not having realized that she hadn’t gone inside yet.

Mia quirked a brow and held the door for him. “Shall we?”

He had an impulse to tell her to shut up. But they weren’t really that kind of friends, yet. And also, she hadn’t really said anything. Telling her to be quiet about it would only be further acknowledging what _it_ was— what it was obvious, by now, that Mia could read on Matteo like Braille. He sighed and walked ahead of her, inside.

David was mostly quiet at lunch again, but Sam and Kiki more than made up for it with their enthusiastic dissection of the show _Euphoria_ , which was apparently the greatest and simultaneously the worst show ever made. Sara had to skip lunch to talk to a teacher, so Matteo sat between Mia and Leonie, glancing up and over at David so often he’d stopped blushing and probably just looked like he had a sunburn, at a certain point. He walked with David to bio, trying to think of bike-related anecdotes and coming up short as he chewed on his thumb nail.

“So,” David said, holding the door for Matteo. “I was wondering how set you are on going to Seattle this weekend.”

Matteo stared at him as David moved past him toward his seat at their lab table. “What?” he finally asked.

“Seattle? This weekend?”

Matteo sunk into his seat. “I completely forgot,” he admitted.

“So you’re not too set on it, then,” David said, sounding pleased.

Matteo’s stomach clenched with disappointment. “No, yeah,” he said, shaking his head fast as he stared at his notebook. “Of course, it’s cool, it was cool of you to offer, but if you have—”

“Matteo,” David cut in, and he put his hand on Matteo’s wrist, as if to physically stop him from rambling himself into a meltdown. Matteo stared at David’s hand until he pulled it away. “I was just gonna ask if you’d be up for doing something else,” David said. “Instead.”

Matteo met his gaze, finally. “Instead?”

David nodded as Mr. Banner walked in and started clearing off the board.

Matteo licked his lips. David seemed to track the movement with his eyes. Matteo looked away.

“Sure, um, maybe. What’d you… have in mind?”

David shrugged. “You’re not sold on Forks, right?”

Matteo quirked a brow, looking at him again. “You could say that.”

David laughed. “Well. I thought maybe I could try to convince you.”

 _I’m convinced,_ Matteo thought, but he cleared his throat and nodded, slowly. “OK. I mean, you can _try._ ”

David beamed. “Very generous of you.”

Matteo shrugged. “I’m a generous guy.”

“I’ll say.” Sara, suddenly at his side, seemingly having appeared from nowhere— but holding a signed excuse slip which said otherwise— leaned down, dropping a kiss onto Matteo’s head before scooting away to her own lab table.

David stared fixedly ahead when Matteo chanced another glance his way.

“Friday?” Matteo asked, scouring David’s face. David looked back.

“Bring your bike,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realized this story didn't have nearly enough bike riding.


	17. Chapter 17

Sara was reluctant to let Matteo go on Friday. She held onto his jacket by the bike racks as David unlocked his own bike, pointedly looking away from them.

“You’re not even going to Seattle anymore,” she said, pouting visibly. “I don’t see why we can’t go to the dance.”

“ _You’re_ still going to the dance,” Matteo said, carefully disconnecting her from his jacket so he could unlock his bike, too. “They’re just not my thing, Sara. You’ll have a lot more fun with your friends than you would have with me.”

Sara sighed, exaggeratedly huffy. “Fine. Whatever.” She tugged on his sleeve a little as he got onto the bike. “Maybe we can still hang out this weekend, though, right? Tomorrow maybe?”

Matteo glanced at David, who still wasn’t looking at them. “Maybe. Have fun tonight, OK?”

She nodded and finally let him go. David set off the second Matteo was free, and Matteo had to pedal fast to keep up as David turned swiftly out of the school parking lot.

“So,” Matteo said, trying not to make it obvious that he was already struggling a bit to catch his breath, finally getting up beside David, who’d turned off the main road, down a neighborhood street. “What are you showing me that’s gonna sell me on Forks?” He lifted up just slightly from the seat of his bike, wobbling a bit as he let out a little whoop. “Some really good food? Some kind of nerdy historical landmark?” He whipped his head suddenly toward David, brows raised. “Something magical?”

David laughed and shook his head, turning down another street, closer to the trailer park. “I don’t know whether to tell you to lower your expectations or raise them.”

“This is Forks. They’re pretty low.”

David grinned wider and turned onto a dirt road at the last second, so Matteo almost missed the turn, then almost toppled over sideways in frantically making it.

David was laughing up ahead as Matteo struggled, again, to catch up. The air was heavy with fog, and just the lightest sprinkling of rain, like the thin layer of ice food sometimes gets when it’s left in the freezer. Up ahead the dirt path thinned and turned, then widened again, and suddenly there was gravel underfoot, and the trees parted, revealing the rubble remains of a burnt-down little house. Just the fireplace remained intact, detritus and brush surrounding it, as nature encroached where once it’d been banished.

David set his bike down in the grass at the end of the crumbling driveway and climbed up and around what must have once been a garage. “Come on,” he said. “Back here.”

Matteo stared at the ruins as he followed David, nearly missing a step and tumbling onto broken bricks and jagged stone. David grabbed him before he could fall, shaking his head, but wearing that fond little grin he was giving Matteo more and more, that made his stomach feel like it was full of helium.

David stepped down first and helped Matteo over bits of bent and protruding rebar. When Matteo turned, his gaze immediately locked on the diving board, and he looked down, at the abandoned, empty, leaf-filled pool, and let out a breath. “Oh,” he said. Something about it was startling and wonderful, so he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder at David and letting out a soft, “Wow.”

David nodded, grinning. “Wow,” he echoed.

David went first, walking along the side of the pool toward the shallow end, taking the steps down, kicking up a muddy clump of fallen leaves and twigs. Matteo followed, taking the angled steps slowly so he wouldn’t lose his footing again. It was strange, standing in a pool without water, staring up a house that wasn’t there anymore. The trees stirred around them, as if alerted of their presence; confused at people being there, after so much time alone.

Well, one person, Matteo thought, and one vampire. He snorted a laugh, and David looked over his shoulder at him, raising a brow in question. Matteo just shook his head.

David jumped up once he’d reached the deep end, grabbing onto the diving board, hanging with simple ease, even letting go with one hand, just dangling there like a loose leaf about to be blown off a branch on an autumn breeze.

Matteo shook his head, trying not to look too awed, too much like he was marveling at the simple wonderment that _was_ David, the vampire showing him an abandoned pool to convince him of the merits of a small town with little else to offer. If _he’d_ tried to grab the diving board, he would have fallen short by at least a foot. The jump was impossible— inhuman.

David pulled himself up and over the side of the board, sitting there, crooking one knee and grinning out at Matteo as his other leg dangled.

Matteo swatted his foot. “Show off.”

David laughed, delighted, and leaned back. Matteo stared up at him, still. He couldn’t really get himself to look away.

David slinked down, ’til he was dangling again, then leapt, landing like a cat, and looking at Matteo with eyes both frenzied and still, and Matteo’s stomach did somersaults and jumping jacks and every matter of middle school phys ed warm-up. He swallowed, and stared down at his feet.

“The house is on fire,” David said, suddenly. Matteo looked up at him again, raising a confused brow. David nodded, as if backing up his own statement. “So we came out here— we didn’t have time to get away, the trees are on fire too.”

Matteo felt himself grinning a little. He tamped it down and cleared his throat. “Bad luck,” he said.

“Bad timing,” David said. “It was the middle of the night. We didn’t smell the smoke until it was too late.”

“Should have invested in better smoke alarms,” Matteo said. David was stepping closer to him. Matteo swallowed and felt his legs beneath him like he was standing on balance beams.

“We’re in the water,” David said. “Waiting the fire out, until it burns up the whole forest, or someone puts it out.”

“You’re already dead, though,” Matteo said. “Why don’t you just—”

“I’m not fireproof,” David said. “Besides, I’m alive, in this scenario.” He grinned.

“Oh. Right.”

“We have to keep going under the water,” David said, stepping closer still. “The smoke is getting to us.”

“I can hold my breath for a really long time,” Matteo offered.

David grinned. “Not as long as me.”

Matteo laughed. “That’s cheating!”

“It’s not. Remember? I’m alive.” He stopped, just a foot or so between him and Matteo. “We’re on even ground. It’s anyone’s game.”

“Seems like a weird time to be playing games,” Matteo said, barely above a whisper as his eyes darted around David’s face, trying hard not to let his gaze fall on his mouth.

“We’re scared,” David said. “We need the relief.”

“On three, then,” Matteo said. Now he _was_ looking at David’s mouth. His resolve hadn’t lasted long. He wondered if he could hold his breath longer than he could keep himself from looking at David’s mouth. He looked up again. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three,” Matteo said, and he sucked in a breath.

David didn’t— he just stopped breathing. Matteo watched it— watched how his chest went still, how his mouth closed, delicate and easy. David stared at Matteo, still as stone, and he _didn’t_ breathe— he didn’t even blink.

Matteo felt frantic, suddenly, not to lose. Like David was challenging him— testing him, questioning whether this was a good idea— them, together, spending time alone, with such an obvious disparity in power, control, strength— need. Matteo wanted to prove him wrong. He could hold his own. He didn’t need to be protected, or kept at a safe distance. He was steady. _He_ was treacherous, too.

Matteo stepped forward, watched David move minutely in response, in surprise— his head angling to keep watching Matteo as he moved, like he couldn’t help the movement. Matteo only had to take that one step. He reached up with just his head, leaving his arms at his sides. The wind whipped up around them and the rain came down in bigger drops— real drops, finally, though still soft, still light and cool, not cold. Matteo touched his mouth to David’s, still holding his breath. He kissed David, just barely, just the lightest brush of lips, like the rain he could feel on his exposed skin— and David breathed.

“I win,” Matteo said.

David stepped away, fast and far, faster and farther than should have been possible, than would have been, were he human. He turned, facing the wall of the pool, and his shoulders heaved. It was so unnecessary— so human.

Matteo stared at him, frozen to the spot.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” David said.

Matteo stared at him, at the back of his head, at his shoulders rising and falling like feverish waves. He stared down at his own feet. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I… thought…”

“No,” David said, sounding angry and frustrated and uneven. “You— you were right about that. That’s not what I mean.”

“Because you’re a vampire?” Matteo asked, looking up again, eyes wide. “I didn’t even think about that. Is that— are you OK? Did I make it— should I go? Are you having a hard time restraining yourself?”

David huffed a laugh. “If I was that weak-willed, Matteo, we wouldn’t even be standing _this_ close.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve… built up a tolerance. To you.”

Matteo mulled over that for a moment, wondering exactly what it meant, curiosity begging him to ask more— but that wasn’t the issue at hand, and he knew it. He sighed. “What, then?”

David turned, slowly, and finally met Matteo’s eyes. “Sara,” he said.

Matteo blinked at him, feeling himself gape. “ _Sara?_ ”

“You’re dating her.”

“I…” Of all the things he’d expected, imagined— this wasn’t a scenario he’d even considered. It seemed ridiculous, now, that he hadn’t. David wasn’t some age-old mythical monster, some Dracula out to seduce Matteo and abandon his body in this forgotten, emptied pool. He was a nineteen year old guy who went to Forks High. He was Matteo’s lab partner. He was the newest member of the QSA.

And Matteo— Matteo was Sara’s boyfriend.

“Yeah,” Matteo said. “Yeah. I am.”

David didn’t say anything, and Matteo didn’t say anything else. They stood there, silent, unmoving, as the rain came down harder. Matteo didn’t know what to do. Apologize? Promise he’d end things with Sara, tell David it was him he wanted, that he was gay— that there’d never been any question, that he was ready, now, to be open and honest, with _everyone,_ about how he felt, who he was?

He wasn’t. It seemed absurd, ridiculous, really, to stand in this dry pool with a vampire and tell him, sorry, I’m just not ready to come out.

Somehow he’d thought this wouldn’t be an issue. David was no stranger to secrets. His was so much larger than Matteo’s own. But Matteo’s didn’t feel small, even in the light of this other.

“I should go,” Matteo said.

David looked sort of shocked. But he’d pulled away, hadn’t he?

Matteo walked back across the pool, up the steps. He stepped up and around the remains again, carefully, without David’s guiding hands to help him. David didn’t seem to have moved— Matteo couldn’t hear him following, but he _was_ a vampire— maybe he was more light-footed than humans.

David hadn’t appeared, though, when Matteo got back to his bike. He stared at the fireplace. He couldn’t see the pool, from here— just the edge of the diving board. As he watched, David pulled himself up onto it again, lying back, closing his eyes, as the rain pounded down.

Matteo rode away without looking back again.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter would probably make more sense as 2 chapters but they'd both b rly short & also yall would have to wait longer so whatever here's a 2-in-1

Sunday night, Charlie knocked on Matteo’s door.

“Matteo?” He waited a long moment before clearing his throat, pushing on. “I was… thinking of ordering a pizza. Are you… would you…” He paused again, cleared his throat again. “I’ll just get pepperoni? And I’ll let you know when it’s here. Come down whenever you want.”

Matteo could almost see him nodding, like that was that, as he listened to Charlie’s footsteps carry back down the hall and the staircase. He turned over on his side, staring out the window. It was still raining. It’d rained all Saturday, and on and off Sunday so far. Matteo’s phone buzzed on the bedspread. Probably Sara. She’d been texting and calling him nonstop. He sat up on the bed and pulled open his bedside table drawer, but his stash was empty, so he lay back down again, pushing his pillow over his face.

Renee used to call these moods he got in “the mean reds.” She got it from some old movie— Audrey Hepburn or something. In a lot of ways Renee was kind of a lousy parent. She didn’t cook or clean or keep up with bills or help Matteo with his homework. But she was always there, she always knew what to do, when Matteo got the mean reds.

Matteo closed his eyes and thought about Renee’s hands, smooth, sort of veiny, starting to wrinkle, pushing through his hair, as she read to him. Bad sci-fi, pulp novels with drawings of anatomically unlikely aliens on the cover that she collected from thrift stores and garage sales. Her voice dipped down for the male characters, comically low, and soared high for the female characters, like a little girl in an old cartoon. Matteo always teased her for that— she was a woman, he said, why not just use her own voice for the women. “It’s equality, Matteo,” she’d say, and push on.

Matteo checked his phone, finally, hoping for a text from Renee. Instead his eyes landed on a message from an unknown number.

_hey matteo. its mia. got your # from kiki. i saw you on your bike on friday. you looked upset. if u want to talk about anything, this is my number. obviously_

Matteo turned the phone over in his hands, staring out his window again, just as the rain let up, and a single streak of sunshine split through the briefly-parted clouds, landing in his yard like a UFO beam. He dropped the phone on the duvet and pushed himself off of the bed.

Charlie looked up at his entrance into the living room. A football game was on, but Charlie had a crossword in his lap. Matteo wondered if the game was some kind of rerun, or something. He didn’t even know if that was a thing.

“Hey, kiddo!” Charlie said. He sounded relieved.

“Hey,” Matteo said. “Pizza here yet?”

Charlie held up his phone. “Ten minutes,” he said, turning the screen as if for Matteo to check for himself.

“Cool,” Matteo said. “I’m just gonna—” He indicated the front door. “Fresh air.”

Charlie nodded and only let his gaze linger for a moment before looking back toward his crossword.

Matteo stared down the road, in the direction of the dispensary, but he figured it would probably be closed on a Sunday evening, so, with a sigh, he loped over to his truck. He pulled the door open and himself up into the cab, closing himself inside as the rain came back.

He’d left the key in the glove compartment. He usually did. Forks wasn’t the kind of place where you had to worry about things like that, and the truck wasn’t the kind of car you worried about being stolen. He stuck it into the ignition, turning on the heat and the radio as soon as the engine rumbled to an obnoxious start. He’d left in a mix CD a friend from Phoenix had given him years ago. He ejected it quickly and rifled around through the CDs in the glove compartment until he found what he was looking for. He slid it in and cranked up the volume as the heat finally started to come through the vents. He cranked his window down just a little, sticking his fingers through the crack, letting them get wet as the audiobook he’d stolen from his mom’s car started up, the booming British voice of the narrator coming through his crackly stereo like a coughing fit. He didn’t even listen to the story— just leaned his head back and let the voice wash over him like a hot shower, until the pizza guy pulled up to the bottom of the driveway.

Matteo watched the guy get out of his car and go up to the front door. Charlie payed him and took the pizza inside, and only when the guy was heading back down toward the delivery car did he finally lock eyes with Matteo.

Matteo pushed his door open. “Hey.”

The guy stopped, looking at him. “Hey.”

Matteo grinned lopsidedly. “You don’t happen to have any weed, do you?”

The guy didn’t even hesitate— he reached into his pocket and pulled out a joint.

Matteo leapt down from the truck, slamming the door behind him and giving the guy a wide grin as he accepted the offering. “Thanks, dude.”

The guy nodded, eyes steady on Matteo’s.

Matteo indicated the house with a nod. “My wallet’s inside. How much…?”

The guy shook his head. “Keep it, man. You look like you need it more than me.”

Matteo chewed on his lip. “Thanks.”

“You’re Matteo, right?”

Matteo nodded.

“You hang out with GSA kids.”

“It’s QSA now,” Matteo said. “But… yeah.”

The guy nodded. “They’re nice,” he said. “They seem like good friends to have.”

Matteo stared at the guy.

“See ya,” he said, and left, just like that.

Inside, Charlie held up the pizza box. “Hungry?”

Matteo nodded. The joint, unlit, sat in his pocket, and he glanced up the stairs. “I’m just gonna grab my phone,” he said. “I’ll be right down.”

Charlie nodded, and took a huge, sloppy bite of the first piece.

In his room, Matteo grabbed his phone, and saved Mia’s number to his contacts. He put the joint in his drawer and hurried back downstairs, almost missing that last step again.

Charlie laughed. “There he is,” he said— like he’d been gone long.

*

Sara wasn’t waiting for him outside of the English room Monday morning. Mia sat beside him— they didn’t talk, but she kept sending him these little glances, and smiling over-zealously whenever he looked back, almost Kiki-like. It was sort of unsettling.

David didn’t sit with them at lunch. Neither did Sam. Matteo was back to glancing, despite himself, toward the Cullen table, at two-minute-intervals as Mia pointedly watched him and Sara pointedly ignored him, from two seats away.

“What’s up with everyone?” Kiki finally asked, obviously exasperated as she dropped her celery to her plate. “Did I miss something, or what?”

Leonie sniffed, glaring at Matteo; looking away before he could meet her gaze. Matteo just sighed and pushed the sludgy lasagna around on his plate.

He didn’t go to bio. He went to the parking lot and smoked the pizza guy’s joint as he lay flat in the bed of his truck.

Renee didn’t answer when he called her. He regretted having dialed at all. She’d just ask him why he’d been calling her during school hours. He sighed and pulled himself up.

Matteo decided it wasn’t worth it to go to PE, so he got in the cab and drove the truck out of the school parking lot. He drove down the main road, then turned aimlessly down neighborhood streets and finally onto a barely-marked dirt road with fresh tire tracks but little other signs of life.

The road was long and winding. As the forest surrounded him on every side, Matteo glanced over his shoulder semi-nervously and wondered if he should turn back. But there wasn’t anywhere to turn back, yet, so he just kept driving on.

Finally the dirt road met up with the shore of a little pond. The road didn’t stop there, but there was room to turn around, at least. On an impulse, though, Matteo put the truck in park and dropped out, kicking up dirt where he landed. He shuffled over to the pond, dipping the toe of his shoe in the water, sort of testing to see how far he could go without getting his sock wet. Only he did get his sock wet, and recoiled, scrunching up his face in distaste.

“Bit cold out for a swim, don’t you think?”

Matteo spun fast toward the voice, nearly losing his balance, only just stopping himself from careening backward into the water.

He stared, half-gaping, surprised and confused. “Dr. Cullen,” he said.

“Matteo, right?”

Matteo nodded. It was weird seeing the doctor outside of a hospital setting. He’d looked young before, but now, seeing him in the woods, wearing jeans and a hoodie, Matteo was struck by just how young he really was. He didn’t look old enough to be a doctor, let alone a… foster parent, or whatever he was.

When Matteo nodded, the doctor nodded back. “It’s Jonas,” he said, indicating himself. “Everyone just calls me Jonas. You know. Outside of work.” He gave Matteo a friendly grin. Matteo wanted to ask what he was doing alone in the middle of the woods— but Jonas could ask him the same question. Then again, Matteo had a truck. Jonas was on foot.

Suddenly it occurred to Matteo just what he _might_ have been doing, out here, alone, in the woods. He swallowed— it was more like a gulp.

“You’re friends with David, I think,” Jonas said.

Matteo nodded slowly, cautiously. He felt sort of like a cornered animal.

“Why aren’t you in school?” Jonas was leaning on Matteo’s truck now, his hands tucked in his jean pockets as he grinned, amusedly, giving Matteo sort of a co-conspirator once-over, like he approved of people playing hooky, on principle.

“You know,” Matteo managed, his voice wavering a bit as he tried to compose himself. “I just felt like… driving my truck into the woods. Sticking my foot in a pond.”

Jonas laughed. “Good to follow your instincts,” he said, nodding.

Matteo nodded back, fast and nervous. He took halting steps toward his truck. “Well. I should— really—”

“Get back to ditching school?”

Matteo halted, coughed a laugh. “That’s… yeah.”

“It’s cool to meet you,” Jonas said. “You know. Outside of the ER.”

Matteo laughed again.

“David speaks highly of you,” Jonas said. “Not to sound like a dad. You know. ‘Cause I’m not, really. I mean, I’m twenty-three.”

Matteo stared at him. He felt so strange, off-kilter. This conversation kind of felt like when an amused college kid would buy beer for Matteo and his friends at some gas station in Phoenix, and hand it off with some appreciative non-advice like “keep up the good work” or “enjoy it while you can,” as if they were sage old wise men rather than frat boys in backwards hats. Except Jonas was a real, proper adult, in most ways— a real, high-paying career, a wife, a _bunch of foster kids._ Matteo couldn’t figure out what his deal was. But just standing there, grinning sort of awkwardly at each other, he thought he liked him. Like he kind of wanted to be his friend. And not even in that sad way middle schoolers look up to high schoolers, or whatever.

“I’ll see you around,” Jonas said.

“Yeah. OK.”

Matteo got into the truck, but before he could even start the engine, Jonas had disappeared into the trees.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MIDNIGHT SUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sara didn’t wait for him outside of English again the next day; David and Sam again didn’t sit with Matteo and his friends at lunch. Matteo went to bio, but he only survived about ten minutes of the horribly awkward and tense silence between him and David before he grabbed the bathroom pass and hid out in the men’s room until the bell rang. Mr. Banner gave him a look when he loped back to the bio room to return the pass and grab his backpack, but Matteo just shrugged and put a hand over his stomach as if to say ‘must’ve been something I ate.’

Wednesday was a sunny day, so at least he could sit through bio in peace, even if Sara was still giving him the silence treatment and Leonie was still giving him dagger eyes whenever she thought Sara wasn’t looking.

Thursday was the worst. Kiki spent all of lunch talking about Matteo and Sara without mentioning their names, hinting none-too-subtly about how _some_ people didn’t know how to _communicate_ and _confront their feelings and problems head on._ Mia ate in silence, obviously trying not to laugh.

David acknowledged Matteo as soon as he sat down in biology.

“Lab today,” he said.

Matteo looked up at the board and back at David. He didn’t know what to say, so he just kind of nodded and pulled out his notebook.

“My— uh— um. Jonas. He said he saw you. In the woods.”

Matteo stared hard at his own paper as Mr. Banner started explaining the lab. “Yeah,” Matteo muttered. “I was— yeah.”

David didn’t add anything else.

“He was alone,” Matteo said, glancing at David briefly, looking away again as soon as David looked back, always incapable of keeping his cool when he locked in with David’s eyes like molten, dripping gold. “Was he…”

David shook his head. “We don’t hunt here,” he said, not whispering, exactly, but talking more quietly than most people _could_ whisper. “Not so close to town.”

Matteo glanced at him again, despite himself. “So then… who was it?”

David looked back at him. “Who was what?”

Matteo searched his eyes, his stomach a spin cycle, the dirty clothes of his insides begging him to break the gaze. David’s eyes were steady on his, but there was no emotion betrayed in them. Matteo knew, suddenly, how he felt— because he _didn’t_ know how he felt. It was frustrating and infuriating, having no idea what was going on in David’s head.

“Waylon Forge,” Matteo whispered. “Who killed Waylon Forge?”

David frowned, deep, eyes finally clearing like a window flung open, showing Matteo just a glimpse into what was going on inside. He looked quickly away. “Maybe a bear.”

“David—”

“Mr. Swan. Mr. Cullen,” Mr. Banner said, his voice loud and firm enough that Matteo felt safe in assuming that it wasn’t the first time he’d said both their names. David looked up at him, his eyes wide like he was shocked to realize he hadn’t heard his own name being called. Matteo looked much more belatedly. He wasn’t exactly a novice at this.

“Anything you’d care to share with the class?”

“We were just discussing the lab,” David said in a rush.

“Perhaps you should wait until I’ve finished explaining it.”

David nodded. “Of course. We’re sorry.”

Mr. Banner raised a brow at Matteo.

“Sorry,” he said, raising a brow back.

David huffed a laugh beside him as Mr. Banner turned back toward the board, seeming barely to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. The sound of it warmed Matteo from head to foot, thawing out the numbness he’d felt for days. He focused, finally, on the front of the room— pointedly ignoring the current of heat running all up and down his side, which surged and crackled every time David so much as moved a finger.

But David left as soon as the bell rang. And in the absence of him, Matteo remembered his own words. He remembered the rain, and how David looked, laying back on the diving board.

He couldn’t sleep Thursday night. The rain was too loud on the roof. And the next morning, the sky was grey. But David wasn’t in school.

Sara _was—_ she waited for Matteo when the last bell rang, standing primly with her arms crossed over her chest by the back of his truck. Matteo tugged on his backpack strap as he stopped a few feet away from her.

“Hey.”

She sighed loudly and dropped her arms to her sides. “What is _up_ with you?”

Matteo shrugged.

Sara straightened her back and tossed her hair over her shoulder. It was barely long enough to toss, but somehow she managed. “I’m coming over,” she said.

“OK.”

“Actually, we’re going out.”

“OK.”

“For milkshakes.”

“OK.”

Sara nodded decisively and walked to Matteo’s passenger door, stepping up and in and slamming the door shut behind her.

Matteo followed her curt directions to the diner she had in mind. It was In Place— Matteo and Charlie went there sometimes when he was a kid; there was a terrifyingly patriotic bench out front, but the food was pretty good, from what he remembered. Matteo parked in front of the bench, raising a brow at it as he got out of the truck.

They slid into a booth without having to wait for seating. Sara picked up the menu in front of her as Matteo took in the painted table, his head swarming with memories of scarfing down fries here when he was a kid, burning the roof of his mouth because he couldn’t wait for them to cool down.

“You’re paying,” Sara said.

“OK.”

The waitress took their order and Sara handed her their menus. When she’d gone, Sara looked out the window and sighed.

“Kiki used to date this guy,” she said. Matteo froze. “Patrick. He was nice and all— but all of us, her friends, we all kind of knew, you know? We knew she was a lesbian since she was, like, six. She wasn’t out back then, even to us, but, like— I just thought he was so dumb, you know? Patrick. That he couldn’t see it. I mean, he was _dating_ her. And it was, like, a long time. It wasn’t like a month-long— the point is, he didn’t know. And I just thought that was so crazy.”

She let out this chain of words like she was exhaling them in a single puff of breath. Matteo stayed absolutely still and felt nothing but his heart slamming in his chest— like that heavy rainfall on his roof.

Sara didn’t say anything else. She stared at the table as the waitress brought them their milkshakes. “Thanks,” Matteo managed, and the woman smiled at him, and sent a slightly concerned look toward Sara. She glanced over her shoulder with a frown at Matteo as she walked away— like she thought he was dumping Sara, or something. Matteo thought maybe it was the other way around.

“I guess I just never really had any sympathy for him,” she said. “When they broke up— it was just like, well, what do you expect, dating a lesbian? I was even kind of mad at him for it. Like he was, like, homophobic, because he dated her. It was like— _how could he put her through that_ , you know?”

Matteo still hadn’t moved. Milkshake dripped down the side of his tall glass. Sara leaned forward and spun her long-handled spoon around in her own. She grabbed the straws from the end of the table in a swift movement and pulled out two. Matteo stared at the straw she held out toward him like she was offering him a loaded gun for a duel. He took it and met her eyes, at a loss.

She stuck her straw in her milkshake and took a long sip. The milkshakes were thick, though, so it didn’t look like she really got much out of it.

“I’m sorry,” Matteo said.

Sara stared at him. She let out a little puff of breath and nodded. “So you are— so that is— right. Yeah. OK. I mean, yeah.”

“How did you…”

“I mean. Matteo. You stare at David Cullen, like, all the time.”

Matteo snorted a little laugh and leaned his head back against the cushion of the booth. He pushed his hands over his eyes and let out a long, quiet groan.

Sara was kind of grinning when he looked at her again. But she looked sad, still. Like a Van Gogh painting.

“I’m really sorry,” Matteo said to the tabletop. “I didn’t… I wasn’t.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I was… outed. At my old school. It just… it wasn’t great. And I wasn’t ready to be out here. And you were— so nice to me.”

“I like you,” she said, shrugging.

“I like you, too,” he said, looking at her again as she rolled her eyes. “No, really. I do. I mean, not like that, but…” He trailed off again and put his head down on the table. “I’m… garbage.”

Sara laughed. “You’re not garbage.”

“No, I am.”

“These tables are super sticky.”

“It’s OK. I’m already garbage.”

Sara laughed again and shoved at his shoulder. “Sit up, garbage man, and drink your milkshake.”

They drank in silence for a while, struggling hard with the straws which weren’t nearly wide enough for the consistency of their milkshakes, and Matteo somehow got his hands covered in ice cream as Sara laughed at him and kept pushing napkins his way.

He drove her home and they sat in his truck as fog moved over them, surrounding everything in white like they were floating on a cloud.

“I knew I liked you more than you liked me,” Sara said, almost thoughtful as she stared out his windshield. Matteo looked at her, feeling guilty and sad, and more than a little nauseous from drinking his full milkshake and all the leftovers they’d put in that big metal cup. “I think I just… wanted something of my own. You know? High school is so… lonely.”

“I know,” Matteo said, almost in a whisper.

Sara sighed and straightened up, grabbing her backpack from the floor.

“You won’t tell anyone, right?”

Sara looked at him, a different kind of sadness on her face this time. “Of course not. We’ll just… break up. Amicably, you know.”

“OK.”

“But you can trust everyone in QSA, you know that, right?”

Matteo nodded slowly. Sara pressed her lips together and nodded, reaching for the door handle.

He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Can we… be friends?” Matteo was anxious to ask it, but he wanted it so bad he couldn’t let himself mess it up by not saying it out loud. Not this time.

“Aren’t we already?” Sara smiled at him and let herself out, disappearing into the fog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MIDNIGHT SUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably my favorite scene in the whole series... i hope i did it justice!

Matteo barely made it an hour before texting David.

_hey_

David didn’t respond for forty-three minutes. Matteo checked. Repeatedly.

_hello_

_how’s ur friday night_

David didn’t respond for seventeen minutes. When he did, it was with a photo. Matteo opened it and laughed. In it, Sam was beaming as Carlos appeared to be preparing to lunge her, bodily, like a javelin.

_so just a casual normal friday_

Twelve minutes later.

_for me, yes_

_cool_

Another nine minutes.

_hbu_

_ok. got dumped_

David’s response was almost immediate.

_oh_

And then—

_I’m sorry_

Matteo grinned down at his phone. He bit his lip and pressed a hand to his eyes.

_she could tell i liked someone else_

Matteo didn’t wait for a response to that one. Well, he waited half a minute, maybe, but none came. So—

_r u busy tomorrow?_

_no_

_u said you’d show me some time what the deal is w u and sunlight?_

_yeah_

_?_

_ok.. should i pick u up?_

_lets bike_

_ok_

Matteo pressed his face into his pillow to hide his smile from even himself.

_what time?_

_1?_

_late sleeper, all right_

_u cant judge me mr i dont sleep_

_not judging. sleep as late as u want_

_maybe 12_

_12 is better_

Matteo dropped his pillow to the bed and pressed his whole head into it.

*

Matteo woke up at barely a quarter until noon, despite having set an alarm, and he swore as he scrambled and half-fell out of his bed in a tangle of sheets. He dressed hurriedly and brushed his teeth quick and then, after a moment’s pause, more thoroughly, before throwing himself down the stairs, almost collapsing again, catching himself on the edge of the couch.

“Morning!” Charlie exclaimed, looking up from his sandwich with a look of surprise. “You’re up early for the weekend.”

“I’m heading out,” Matteo said in a rush, throwing the fridge open and staring blankly before grabbing a banana from the bowl on the counter, breaking it in half and stuffing the whole thing in his mouth at once.

“Careful, there,” Charlie said, real concern in his voice as he half-stood from his seat. “Can’t I—”

A knock sounded at the front door, and Matteo gave Charlie a crazed look that had Charlie raising his brows, clearly uncertain as to what was happening.

“I have to go,” Matteo said, already starting toward the front door.

“OK— well— have fun!”

“Bye dad!” Matteo opened the front door, stepped outside, and slammed it closed behind him in one swift movement, looking at David, who stared at him with a quirked brow. Matteo paused, finally, to catch his breath. “Hi.”

“Hello,” David grinned. “Did you just wake up?”

“No, I’ve been up for hours. I never went to sleep, actually.”

“Right.”

“Shut up. Where’s your bike?”

David indicated the driveway.

“OK. Just— just a second.”

The rode in silence; David was grinning just at the corners of his mouth whenever Matteo glanced over, which he did frequently, despite the fact that his bike wobbled precariously beneath him every time he did. The third time, he almost went down, and David huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he smoothly turned, and paused, waiting for Matteo to straighten and catch up.

David pulled to a stop in the dirt at the start of a barely-marked and maintained hiking trail. There were so many trails in Forks that the parks department seemed to pick which to keep up at random, like they were drawing straws.

“Here,” David said, and pulled his bike off to the side, barely hiding it in the brush, clearly not too concerned about it being stolen, despite it being really a rather nice bike, from what Matteo could tell. Matteo dropped his own bike beside it and looked at David expectantly.

David looked him up and down, and Matteo felt his face go hot, but then David indicated his shoes. “Can you hike in those?”

Matteo’s face fell. “We’re _hiking?_ ”

David laughed. “Nothing too extreme. We just need to get high enough to break the fog cover.” He nodded toward the curling fog on the road behind them, which hovered just over the blacktop as if it came from the ground up.

“Is that possible in Forks?” Matteo asked, frowning as he ran a hand through his hair.

David chuckled. “Come on.”

They started off down the trail, which soon petered out, but David seemed to know his way, so Matteo followed close behind him, gratefully letting David hold back tree branches for him, and hold his hand to help him over streams and over rock formations. Every time they came into contact Matteo went clammy and nervous, his heart pounding in his chest like he was public speaking. David’s tongue darted out to lick his lips one of these times, his eyes landing on Matteo’s neck, and down to his chest, and it occurred to Matteo that David might be able to _hear_ it. His heart. He could tell, at least, somehow— it was obvious he could tell, whenever Matteo’s heart raced. It only raced faster with this knowledge. Matteo wanted to swat himself, but David’s eyes flicked up toward his, and he licked his lips again before dropping his gaze. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he knew.

They quizzed each other like elementary schoolers on a playground— what’s your favorite color, your favorite animal, your favorite food. David watched Matteo intently when he answered these inane questions, like it was pressingly significant information. Matteo blushed and stuttered, but he wanted to know David’s answers, too, so he kept going.

“We’re close,” David said at last, and conversation died between them as Matteo followed behind him, staring with anticipation toward where ever David was leading him.

The trees parted around a meadow, perfectly round like it’d been sculpted by human hands. It wasn’t the buggy, wet kind, either— it was almost neon green, and full of wild flowers, purple and yellow and white like girls have printed on sun dresses and bed spreads. Matteo felt himself smiling as David glanced at him from his side. “Wow,” he said. He looked at David.

“Wow,” David repeated, smiling, his eyes soft and warm like latte foam. Matteo stepped forward, into the sunlight which shone down on the little oasis like a spotlight. He tilted his head up and smiled wider, closing his eyes and feeling the heat of the sun on his face like a cat in a windowsill.

David didn’t move. Matteo tilted his head down after a moment and looked at him. “What?” he asked— what was he waiting for?

David took in a shaky breath, ran a hand through his hair, and stepped forward, into the sunlight.

Matteo had almost forgotten why they’d come— the excuse he’d given, at least, for why they should spend time together today. He remembered, though, the minute David’s skin was bathed in unfiltered sun, like blood in water. It was everywhere on him at once, every inch of skin that showed— he sparkled, in the sun, like a polished gem. Charlie had an obsession with petrified wood, there was a display of it in his study that Matteo was almost positive was all illegally acquired. He thought of that wood now as he stared at David’s skin, his neck, his arms, his hands, brown and glittering in the sun. He was like a deep sea creature, or some obscure flora found deep in an always-unexplored landscape. He was beautiful and absurd, unfamiliar and astonishing, and Matteo felt frozen to the spot as he stood there and stared.

David fidgeted nervously under his gaze, and Matteo remembered that he was just a boy. He took in a shaky breath and stepped forward.

“Can I—”

David swallowed and nodded, slowly. He started to extend his arm, like he was putting himself on display, but Matteo’s hand was already reaching toward David’s cheek. They both paused, wide eyes meeting like wild animals spotting each other across a glen. Then David dropped his arm back to his side, and Matteo let his hand land, sort of skittish like a poor parking job, on David’s face. He expected it to be warm— cheeks are always sort of warm, even when you’re not blushing. But it was like metal under his skin, cold and smooth and unmoving. Matteo let the pad of his thumb brush a path up and down David’s jawline, like he was finger-painting. David stayed perfectly still, his eyes unblinking on Matteo’s as Matteo watched his own hand, David’s face like marble under his touch. Still he sparkled, and it didn’t feel like anything, really— but Matteo almost imagined it did, like he’d dipped his hand in a glittering pond.

“Why?” he asked, finally, regretfully letting his hand fall to his side, and taking an unsteady step back.

David took in a breath like he hadn’t breathed in minutes. Matteo realized, suddenly, that maybe he actually hadn’t.

“I don’t know,” David said. “It— it must serve some sort of— purpose. Evolutionarily. But I don’t… know.”

Matteo stared at him, transfixed, and he thought maybe _he_ knew.

After a long moment, he sank down, sitting in the grass— then laying back. David joined him, and Matteo turned his head, staring shamelessly, watching his skin sparkle in the sunlight like the sea. David sighed, closing his eyes. He seemed not to be breathing again. Matteo wondered if he only ever breathed for other people’s sake.

After a while Matteo sat up again— but he didn’t look away, just sat there staring down at David as he seemed almost to sleep, though of course he wasn’t. Matteo let out a little breath like a warning before slowly reaching out, touching a single fingertip to the back of David’s hand. Picking up on what Matteo wanted, David flipped his hand immediately to face palm up— he moved so quickly, like he had in the pool, and Matteo caught his breath, thrown, almost annoyed with himself that he hadn’t gotten used to that, yet.

“Sorry,” David said, his voice hushed like they were somewhere holy or scholarly; a cathedral or a library. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Matteo shook his head, brushing that off, before cautiously reach out again. David watched him, his eyes darting back and forth between Matteo’s face and hand.

Matteo traced lines on the inside of David’s palm like he was following the lines of a map. It was cold and dry— Matteo’s hands felt clammy as a swamp rock in comparison. He imagined cupping David’s hands together, filling them with water and drinking from his skin. He snorted a laugh at the irony of the thought, and David let out a little sigh of frustration.

Matteo looked up at him, stilling his finger in the middle of David’s palm. “What?”

David shook his head. “Just the not knowing. It’s all the more noticeable when it’s just you and me. There’s no one’s thoughts in my head but my own.”

Matteo grinned. “That’s how it is for most people.”

“Normally I’m jealous of most people for that. But not knowing what you’re— it’s—” He huffed another sigh. “Will you just tell me, please?”

Matteo laughed. He could feel his cheeks heating, though, at the mere idea of sharing what’d been in his mind when David asked.

“Oh,” David said. He dropped his eyelids again and sighed. “You… it’s… stronger when you blush.”

Matteo felt himself blush harder. “What is?” he asked.

“Your scent.”

Matteo raised his brows, his hand going still again, where he’d briefly renewed running lines over David’s inner wrist. “My…”

“You remember when we first met?”

Matteo chuckled. “Sort of hard to forget.”

“I’m sorry.”

Matteo shrugged, but he felt the little frown on his own mouth.

“I was… overwhelmed.”

Matteo looked at him. David’s eye were open again, steady on his. “By what?”

David’s eyes darted to Matteo’s cheeks and back up. He tapped a finger to his own cheek and quirked a brow.

“My… blood?”

“The scent of it,” David said.

“But… you go to high school. You’re surrounded by people every day.”

“I’m used to people. It wasn’t your novelty that was the problem.”

“Then what was it?”

“Your blood… sings.”

Matteo raised his brows again, high. “ _Sings?_ ”

“It means it’s… especially… fragrant. For me, specifically. No one else in my family is bothered by it. But the moment I caught your scent— I— I had a… difficult time. Refraining.”

Matteo stared at him as David looked away. “Refraining.”

David sort of grunted.

“From… killing me.”

David’s eyes fell shut again. He took in a huge, shaky breath. “From drinking your blood. Yes.”

“Which would kill me.”

“…most likely.”

Matteo looked out across the trees, letting that sink in. “Huh.”

David snorted a laugh.

“I guess that’s a pretty good reason to be such a dick.”

David laughed again, full-bodied, and swatted at Matteo with the hand Matteo was still touching.

“But you’re over it, now?”

“I’m not _over it._ Your blood still… sings. To me. But I’m… used to it, now.”

“Like that disease.”

“What?”

“That disease. Where you hear constant ringing in your ears.”

“That’s… yeah. I guess it’s kind of like that.”

Matteo nodded sagely. “So where’d you go?”

“What?”

“You disappeared. After that first day, you weren’t in school.”

“Oh. Yeah. I went to Alaska. To clear my head, I guess.”

“Alaska? What’s in Alaska?”

“Not much,” David grinned. “That was kind of the point.”

Matteo’s eyes went wide. “Did you hunt polar bears?”

David laughed. “I try to stick to animals that aren’t endangered.”

“Polar bears aren’t though. Technically.”

“Fine, endangered or near-endangered.”

“Vulnerable. They’re vulnerable.”

David laughed bodily again. “You’re…” He shook his head.

Matteo didn’t say anything for a long while. He went back to tracing lines on David’s sparkling skin. He was too marvelous not to touch. He probably should have been freaking out more about the whole I-almost-killed-you thing, but he couldn’t really focus on anything other than how David looked in the sunlight.

“You’re safe with me, you know,” David said, eventually, his voice hushed again, his eyes intent on Matteo when he looked back.

“I know,” Matteo said. He pressed the pad of his thumb into the pad of David’s, and wondered again if David could hear when his heart raced.

Slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Matteo’s, David laced their fingers together. They were holding hands. Matteo’s heart wouldn’t slow down, no matter how hard he tried to convince it. David licked his lower lip. Matteo stared— he wondered if there were fangs in that mouth, retractable, like in the movies. He looked back up at David’s eyes.

“You’re so… warm,” David said.

Matteo laughed. “I’m not warm. You’re cold.”

“But I don’t feel cold. So you feel warm. Hot, really.”

Matteo smirked. “So you think I’m hot.”

David laughed. “Idiot.”

They stayed there for what felt both like a long time and no time at all. When they walked back toward their bikes, David kept running up ahead, just a blur in the trees, then appearing suddenly, again, at Matteo’s side— so close their breath intermingled— and Matteo would startle, every time, even though he knew it was coming. More than once, Matteo tripped, and David, nowhere near him, caught him before he could fall. By the time they were back to the road, Matteo felt out of breath, not just from the walk, but from a churning sense of anticipation, like a drawn out joke with the punchline just in sight.

They stopped at the end of the path, looking at their bikes and then back at each other.

“I’m sorry about Sara,” David said.

“Don’t be,” Matteo said.

“OK, I’m not.”

Matteo laughed, shaky and nervous. “Good.”

“Can I try something?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t you want to know what I want to try?”

“OK, what do you want to try?”

“I want to try to kiss you.”

Matteo’s breath picked up, faster than the fast it already was, and he tried to take in a deep breath like someone about to dive underwater, but all he managed was a little puff of air that only made his heart slam harder in his chest.

“Can you try that?” he managed. “It seems like you either do or you don’t.”

David stepped closer. “I’m going to try,” he said. His eyes darted from Matteo’s eyes to his mouth and back again. “You should know it might not work.”

“I… kissed you. Before.”

“That was different. I was… upset. You surprised me. I was upset, I wasn’t… I hadn’t been… thinking about it.”

Matteo let out another shaky breath.

“I— well— I hadn’t been thinking about it as much.”

“So it might not work, this time, because you have been. Thinking about it.”

David stared at him. “There’s no element of surprise,” he said, his voice sort of husky and dry. “Being so close to you… it is dangerous. I’m still a—”

“Are you going to keep talking about it, or—”

“OK. OK. Don’t move,” David said, and _he_ moved, fast, as fast as he’d moved all day, one second some inches away, the next right there, breathing on Matteo’s mouth, and then he kissed him.

It lasted barely a second longer than their last kiss. Just a press of lips, like a finger in an electric socket, lighting Matteo up absolutely everywhere at once, so he felt as burning hot as David was cold. He balled his hands up in David’s sweatshirt, as David pressed just slightly forward. He gasped just as David pulled back, just as fast as he’d moved in.

David was a few feet away by the time Matteo opened his eyes.

“I’m— that— I— yeah. No.” David shook his head, his chest heaving; he shook his head again. “I am not ready for that yet.”

Matteo stared at him, too out of it to even think straight. If David _could_ read his mind, all he’d hear just then was static, and maybe his own name.

“We… should… go,” David said, lethargic like he’d just woken up. He looked up at the sky, where rain clouds were, predictably, gathering for a storm.

David moved quickly, picking up both their bikes, and he wheeled Matteo’s over to him, his eyes trailed on the ground. He looked up when he was just in front of him, and his eyes were like over-stuffed journals with scrap paper and pictures and all sorts of tickets and receipts and little notes barely staying inside.

Matteo stripped off his coat, hung it over his bike, and stripped off the thinner jacket he’d been wearing underneath. He put the coat back on and held the jacket out to David. David stared at it, seemingly at a loss for words.

When he’d taken it, slowly, confusion written across his face, Matteo grabbed his bike and swung his leg over the side. He glanced back at David and nodded toward the jacket. “So next time, you’ll be ready.”

He rode off before David could respond.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring the infamous Edward Cullen lop-sided grin. had to show up some time

Matteo had forgotten how much he enjoyed riding a bike before David brought him back to it. Sunday morning he woke late with a single message on his phone— _Good morning_ , it read, _or more likely good afternoon_.

He replied quickly, but when no response had come by the time he’d eaten, dressed, and watched Netflix on the couch for a good hour, Matteo went outside.

Full of nervous, giddy energy, he rode his bike up and down Charlie’s street. There was a slight incline in one direction, so Matteo had to pump his legs going up, but when he turned to head back down, he could lift his feet off the pedals entirely and just soar down the street like he was flying. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and grinning wide as the wind beat around him, seeming to encourage him onward, like the air itself was as thrilled, today, as Matteo was.

He rode until his legs went wobbly and he couldn’t keep his balance any longer, then collapsed in a heap on the front lawn. Matteo stared up at the cloudy sky with a stupid grin on his face. When he went inside, he’d probably have a text from David.

He didn’t. In fact, David didn’t text him again for hours. Matteo moved restlessly around the house; all attempts at getting homework done were pointless, and when he tried to make dinner, he burnt both the food and himself. With his mouth around the skin just under his thumb, where he’d scalded himself, Matteo marched back up the stairs to his room, anxious and annoyed.

He flopped back on his bed and stared daggers at his bedroom ceiling. When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he almost didn’t even check it. Why get his hopes up just to be disappointed?

But his resistance didn’t last long, and when he did check his phone, there was a single message from David.

_U home?_

Matteo sat up fast. He wanted to delay replying— he’d agonized all day, after all; David could be kept waiting a few minutes. But his own impatience won out over activating David’s, and he typed quickly, _yeah, why?_

Just as soon as the message had sent, a sound caught Matteo’s attention. He tilted his head like a curious dog, and the sound repeated itself— the sound of something hitting his window. Hail, maybe? But he hadn’t even heard any rain.

Matteo stood to investigate, and just as he reached the window, the source of the sound revealed itself— a little rock hit the window and fell to the ground. Matteo looked down, and there David was, staring up. He held a hand up in a wave. Matteo couldn’t help the giant grin that broke out across his face. He pushed his window open and leaned out.

“What are you doing?”

“Do I need to explain? I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

Matteo snorted. “Just— hold on— I’ll be right down.”

“No!” David said, and Matteo paused, raising a confused brow. He didn’t want to come in?

“Just— back up a bit?”

Matteo confusedly followed this instruction, and seconds later, David was perched in the open window, his legs bent, his hands gripping the sides of the sill. Matteo felt his eyes going slowly wide, his brain taking a minute to catch up with his eyes. He spluttered and gaped, struck dumb by what’d just happened.

David grinned and dropped down, suddenly standing in front of Matteo, cool as anything, his hands in his pockets and his coiffed hair completely undisturbed, like he’d just strolled over here easy as can be.

“You’re unbelievable,” Matteo said.

David nodded his agreement. He glanced around Matteo’s room.

“Ah— I— this was my room when I was a kid,” Matteo said, feeling his face heat as he glanced around, seeing everything David saw, the piles of clothes, the messy desk and the unmade bed. His childhood rocking chair was in the corner. David went and sat down in it. He grinned up at Matteo, raising a brow.

Matteo crossed his arms over his chest, watching as David rocked. “Where’d you go today? I— you never replied to my messages.”

David grimaced and ceased rocking. He looked away, sighing, and stood. “I was… out of town.”

Matteo stared at him, reading his posture and tone of voice, realizing what he meant. “Oh.”

“If I’m— if we’re… going to… spend time together, I want to be sure, you know, that I’m always… full.”

“That makes sense.”

David laughed and finally looked back at Matteo. “You’re so…”

“What?” Matteo backed up, sitting and scooching back on his bed until he was leaning agains the headboard. David followed suit, carefully perching by the footboard.

“Diplomatic,” David said. “I still can’t quite believe I can just… talk to you about all this. But you’re so cavalier about it.” He grinned. “Am I not the only fantasy creature you know, Swan?”

“Not by a long shot,” Matteo grinned back. He shrugged. “I guess I just don’t really know how else to be. I mean, this stuff is normal for you.”

“But not for you,” David insisted. “I’ve turned your world upside down. Don’t you wonder what else is out there? What else you don’t know?”

Matteo shrugged again. “I mean, I’ve kind of always assumed the government was keeping secrets from us, anyway. Aliens exist, like, for sure, and they know about it.”

David laughed into his knee. “I didn’t know you were a conspiracy theory guy.”

“Not the racist ones.”

“That’s good.”

They smiled at each other, and Matteo realized, all in a rush, as if David had just materialized there out of thin air, that they were alone, in his room, on his _bed._ David was sitting on Matteo’s bed. He felt his cheeks flame and tucked in his chin, clearing his throat and trying to distract himself from that train of thought as quickly as possible. He could feel David’s frustration like energy vibrations; he must have been dying, trying to guess what Matteo was thinking. He didn’t say anything, though— he didn’t ask, this time. Matteo was immeasurably relieved and grateful for that small bit of mercy.

“So,” he said, looking up, desperate to fill the suddenly heated silence, “what’d you eat?”

David stared at him.

“I mean— you went hunting today, right? So what’d you hunt? I guess I should say drink, not eat.”

“I don’t…” David cleared his throat. “I… blood.”

Matteo laughed. “Duh. I meant what animal? Or animals?”

“Oh.” David shook his head at himself. “Right. Deer, mostly.”

Matteo nodded slowly, keeping his eyes locked with David’s. He tried not to picture it— David bent over a deer, his mouth closed around the curve of its neck, blood escaping at the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin like ice cream that melts while you eat it. David raised a brow.

“What’s your favorite?” Matteo heard himself ask, banishing the image he’d overthought into existence from his mind, focusing instead on David’s face, which was enough to occupy his attention for hours. He watched David’s mouth as he answered.

“What do you mean?”

“You must have a favorite,” Matteo said, meeting his eyes again. “Is it deer? Rabbits? Ooh— snakes?”

“Ah.” David licked his lips. He searched Matteo’s face, seemingly baffled and maybe fascinated by whatever he saw there. “Mountain lion.”

Matteo’s eyes went wide again. That happened a lot around David. “Like— you— seriously?”

David just nodded, his eyes unwavering as his mouth lifted up fractionally in a lop-sided grin.

“That’s… I guess I didn’t realize you were… that…”

David leaned forward a little. “You saw me stop the van.”

“Yeah,” Matteo agreed. “Yeah. But that’s…”

He didn’t know what he was going to say, so he pushed on.

“So mountain lion.”

David nodded.

“Is that a favorite all around? What about the rest of your family?”

David leaned back again and ran a hand through his hair. “They all have their own tastes. Carlos loves grizzly bears.”

“ _Grizzly bears?_ ”

“That’s what I said.”

Matteo swallowed. “It’s a good thing I’m not the real kind of vegetarian.” He cleared his throat. “Or… this conversation would probably be… pretty upsetting.”

David barked a laugh. “Yeah. It’s a good thing.”

Matteo chewed on his lower lip. After a while, he stretched out his leg, brushing his ankle against David’s. David stared at him, seeming to go through some internal battle. Then he apparently landed on a decision; he crawled up the bed and laid down at Matteo’s side. Matteo, still sitting up, stared down at him.

David closed his eyes. “Don’t move,” he said. “Let me… acclimate.”

Matteo thought about that, how David had to adjust to his scent whenever they were close, like you unconsciously pause when you emerge from a darkened room into a bright day. He stayed as still as possible, although next to David, as perfectly motionless as he could be, he felt like a twitchy, buzzing mess. He licked his lips, and David inhaled audibly, his lips parting. Matteo felt his face heat again, and he stuck his tongue out, just a bit, letting it rest on his lower lip. David’s eyes flew open, and he stared up at him, his gaze heated.

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

Matteo grinned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

David made a noise not unlike a growl and put his hands over his face. “Fine. I’m fine. It should be fine, now.”

Matteo sunk down, laying beside him, and David peeked at him between his own fingers.

“Should we be keeping our voices down?” he asked. “Will your dad be mad if he finds me here?”

Matteo paused, considering. “I think… he might give me some kind of, like, generic punishment, maybe. Probably more out of a sense of obligation than any real anger, though.”

David quirked a brow at that.

Matteo sighed, squashing pillow into a ball under his head. “Charlie doesn’t really… know how to, like, be a parent, you know? Because I’ve always lived with Renee. He loves me, and he’s not like, negligent, or anything, but— it’s kind of like he’s a first-time father, but instead of having a newborn, he’s got me.”

“Not unlike a newborn in many ways.”

Matteo pulled his pillow out to smack David with it. “I don’t even get what that means, but I know it was an insult.”

David laughed under his breath and handed Matteo’s pillow back to him. He balled it up again.

“He seems nice,” he offered. “Charlie.”

Matteo nodded. “Yeah. He is.”

David reached out, careful and slow, and laced their fingers together on the bedspread. He looked down. “What’d you do to your hand?”

Matteo laughed. “How can you possibly feel that?”

David smirked. “What’d you do, Matteo?”

“It was just a minor burn. _Minor_.”

David huffed. “You’re so…”

“Accident-prone?”

“Human.”

Matteo laughed. Silence stretched between them as moonlight poured through the window, so David looked like a cat sprawled out in a sunbeam.

“What’d you dream about?” he asked, his voice quiet as a whisper. “When you slept here, as a kid?”

Matteo broke his gaze away from David’s face with some difficulty, looking around his own room, again, and landing on the few glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to the ceiling above his bed.

“Nonsense, mostly,” he said. “But if you mean, like, what did I _want?_ ” He screwed up his mouth in thought. “I guess… I wanted to be understood. Not that I really knew what that meant, back then, but— I always felt… other. And I wanted…” He didn’t know what else to say. David squeezed his hand.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

Matteo looked at him. He tilted his head forward, and David took the cue, doing the same, until their foreheads met in the middle. They lay like that, with those two points of contact, and breathed, quiet and calm, as Matteo thought _I got it. I got what I wanted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay in updates y'all!! i've been working on a sapphic fic for another fandom and the lesbians kind of monopolized my attention for a while bc. lesbians. hope u enjoyed this chapter tho!!!


	22. Chapter 22

Matteo was surprised to see Sara waiting for him, as always, outside the English classroom on Monday morning.

“Hey,” he said.

She smiled at him. “Hi.” She didn’t do anything— didn’t try to hold his hand or get into his space, and Matteo felt himself grinning as a comfortable friendliness fell between them. Sara’s eyes were soft and kind, and she tilted her head. “How was your weekend?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “Good. Really good.”

“I’m glad.” She pushed off the wall. “You wanna hang out after school today?”

Matteo nodded without hesitation, finding the idea much more appealing now that there was nothing underlying the invitation. Then he thought of David and wished he hadn’t agreed so readily. But he shouldn’t assume David would want to hang out today anyway; they’d only just become… whatever they were, and Matteo didn’t want to seem like too much, already. So maybe it was for the best he had plans today. He nodded again and smiled. “Yeah. Sounds good. Your place or mine?”

“I’m working again,” Sara said. “I was thinking you could hang out with me there? If that’s OK?”

Matteo nodded as the bell rang and gave her a final smile and wave before going inside.

When Matteo walked into the cafeteria at lunch, David was already sitting with Kiki and Mia, and two of his siblings, this time— Sam and her boyfriend, if Matteo remembered correctly, Abdi. Matteo could see what Kiki’d meant, now— it was weird to think “siblings” and “boyfriend” in the same sentence, about the same people. But knowing what Matteo did, the situation made more sense than it must to everyone else. They were more like a pack, or a coven, or something, than a _family_ , in the ordinary sense. But they lived in the human world, so human labels naturally got prescribed to them, and, just as naturally, didn’t quite fit.

Matteo slipped into the seat beside David and felt himself blushing already, before David could even say “hi.”

“Matteo,” David said, “you know Sam, but I don’t think you’ve met my brother— this is Abdi.”

Abdi grinned wide at Matteo, though he didn’t make any move to hold out a hand to shake or anything of the kind; in fact, he seemed to be doing his best to lean as far away from every human at the table as possible. Matteo caught Sam giving his hand what looked like a comforting squeeze. Matteo quirked a brow.

“Hey. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Abdi said. “David speaks _highly_ of you.” He smirked, and David reached across to smack him. Mia, across the table, grinned around a mouthful of food.

“What are you doing after school today?” David asked, his voice hushed as he leaned in close to Matteo’s side. Matteo let the wave flow over him, the constant buzzing energy that heated him like he was swaddled in an electric blanket whenever David was this close. He let out a little puff of breath and tried hard to think.

“I’m hanging with Sara,” he remembered, just as Sara sat down across from him. She smiled at him, and he nodded, as if to affirm his own words, and looked at David.

“Oh,” he said, visibly disappointed. Matteo’s heart leapt, and he felt bad for being excited about David being upset, but the idea that _David_ would feel even a little bit sad about not being able to spend time with _Matteo_ was so absurd and wonderful that he couldn’t help himself.

“You can join us, David,” Sara chimed in. She smiled, seeming sincere. “We’re just gonna hang out while I work. You can keep Matteo company whenever I’m busy.”

David and Matteo lit up in tandem, like a double-wick candle, and Abdi coughed around a laugh.

“Sure,” David said, shrugging, all feigned, belated nonchalance. “If you don’t mind.”

“’Course not.” Sara was obviously amused at them, but Matteo didn’t mind. He wouldn’t mind outright mockery just then, knowing he’d be spending the afternoon with Sara and David, both. Just days ago, he’d felt torn between them; the idea that he could have a relationship with one and a friendship with the other had seemed hardly possible, and only slightly possible in the opposite formation than the one he wanted, the one he had now. Everything seemed so simple now, and he wondered why he’d stressed so much over this. Could it really be this easy?

Then Leonie sat down, and Matteo remembered that he wasn’t actually, technically, out. Not to everyone— not even to everyone at this table. And as few people at that table as there were left to tell, if he came out, he knew he’d have to come all the way out. Somehow, all the little things, the thrown out remarks and the drawings and the shoves in the halls, that had seemed par for the course in Phoenix, acceptable by comparison to what he knew _could_ happen… it was all too much, now. Even to think about. And there was still the fear, irrational as he knew it must be, given that his friends, here, were all part of the QSA, if not gay themselves— that it would be like last time. That he would have friends one day, and the next, he would be alone.

Sara drove to work on her own, but David had come to school with his siblings, so he approached Matteo for a ride after classes ended. Nervous and ungainly, Matteo moved to open the passenger door of his truck, and struck himself with the force of it. Laughing, David stepped forward and gently moved Matteo out of the way. “Thank you,” he said, letting his hand linger on Matteo’s back for a second before climbing up into the cab. Matteo took in a shaky breath, cursing himself, before crossing over and getting in, himself.

Matteo felt more and less secure than ever in David’s presence, now that they’d… that they were… that things had… changed, between them. And maybe because before he couldn’t focus on anything but David’s mouth, _now,_ his mind kept swirling with the reality of the moment he was in. _I’m driving a vampire. I’m in my truck with a_ vampire. He couldn’t help but think these thoughts would make funny premises for sitcom episodes.

They pulled into the lot of Sara’s dad’s store and David jumped out of the truck before Matteo could even turn off the engine. “Whoa,” he said. When he’d gotten out himself, he went to David’s side with a raised brow. “What was that about?”

“Sorry,” David huffed a little laugh. “It’s just… sometimes, being in such close spaces with you, with very little air circulation…”

Matteo gaped. “That’s why you always keep the windows cracked.”

David nodded.

“Sorry. I’ll remember that next time.”

David huffed again. “Don’t apologize, Matteo. You’re just… existing. _I’m_ the one…”

“Existing next to me?”

David looked at him, his expression unreadable, before sighing. “Let’s just go in.”

Matteo agreed readily enough.

The workday ended up being surprisingly busy, so Matteo and David mostly stayed out of Sara’s way, planting themselves on the plastic rocks near the counter and pretending to work on homework as they talked quietly and played Dots and Boxes on the back of their respective worksheets. Matteo kept trying to cheat, and David kept slapping his hand away so he couldn’t, and every time, Matteo thrilled like they were two kids purposely shocking each other with static electricity.

Sara sighed as the door closed behind a customer, and she came out from behind the counter to sit on the floor beside them. She leaned back on her hands. “So,” she said. She quirked a brow.

“What?” Matteo asked.

“Just wondering if I’m third-wheeling right now,” she said. “Officially, I mean.”

Matteo felt heat all the way up to his ears, but David just laughed. “You’re a very welcome third wheel,” he said, without a hint of hesitance or doubt in his tone. “We’re a tricycle.”

“Nice,” Sara smiled easily, and Matteo felt like he’d just missed something important, but he just smiled back at her, not daring to look over at David.

“Do you like working here?” David asked, glancing around.

Sara shrugged. “I don’t mind it. Dad needs the help, and I can use the cash. It’s not like we’re super busy, either, so I don’t usually get overwhelmed, or anything. Some real weirdos come through, too, which is fun.” She grinned.

David gave Matteo a little sidelong look. “I bet,” he said. Matteo thought of Waylon Forge and swallowed.

“You guys hike a lot, right? And camp and stuff? Your family I mean.” Sara gave David an expectant look, and he looked surprised, but he nodded quickly.

“Um, yup. We’re real… outdoors… people.”

Matteo snorted a laugh and Sara gave him a bemused look as David shot him a glare.

She pressed on, “Are all of you guys really into that stuff, though, or is it like… your foster parents kind of make you? Like, to bond or whatever?”

David looked thoughtful at this question, and a little smiled tugged at one side of his mouth as he glanced shortly at Matteo again, who grinned back at him. “We’re all into it, I’d say. It’s… Jonas encourages it in us, but, I think we’d all be out there anyway, even if he didn’t.”

Matteo wondered what David meant by that. Was he talking about being vampires? Being “vegetarians?” Was he just spewing what would make sense for Sara to hear? But he didn’t think so; David sounded sincere, and he seemed to have an innate respect for humans, from what Matteo had seen— he didn’t think David liked to lie anywhere he didn’t need to. Matteo could sort of understand that. He thought about Mia, the way she looked at him sometimes, right from the beginning, really. And he thought he kind of got it.

The sky was darkening by the time Sara’s shift ended, and she waved goodbye to them and drove away first, her car disappearing into the fog and the dark like a doomed Hitchcock damsel. Matteo got into the truck and rolled down his windows despite the chill, blasting the heater to compensate. David grinned gratefully over at him.

Matteo raised a brow. “You should put your seatbelt on.”

David laughed like that was the funniest thing in the world. “You should put _your_ seatbelt on.”

Matteo, whose seatbelt was already on, gave him an incredulous look and pulled out of the little lot.

“This was nice,” David said. “But tomorrow, don’t make any plans.”

“Is that an order?”

David grinned. “I’m sorry. If you wouldn’t _mind_ , keep your schedule free.”

“Why? What are we doing?” It gave Matteo a thrill to say _we_ , to feel it in his mouth like it made sense, and he thought David felt the same way, from the way his smile stretched just before he looked over at Matteo again.

“If you’re up for it,” he said, “I’d like you to come over. And meet my family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why the seatbelt scene in the movie always Gets Me but i had to pay tribute


	23. Chapter 23

David’s house looked like a dollhouse. It was three stories high, and _all_ windows— you could see into every room; every hallway; the only semblance of privacy came from the fact that the house was set so far back in the forest, accessed by an unmarked dirt road that wound and twisted like a maze through the trees.

“Whoa,” Matteo said, because what else could he say?

David smiled. “It’s… sort of the only place we can be ourselves,” he said. “We don’t have to hide here, you know?”

Matteo stared up at all that glass and thought about that— about sunlight streaming through the trees, setting David’s whole family’s skin to sparkling like they were a collection of decadent chandeliers. He nodded his understanding and got out of the car.

“My family’s… kind of a lot,” David warned.

Matteo squeezed his hand.

He could see Sam and Abdi waiting for them, already, by the door— what with all the glass. Sam threw her arms around Matteo the second they were inside. “ _Finally,_ ” she said, and she pulled him by the hand further inside. Abdi hung back, standing as stiffly as ever, but he smiled when he met Matteo’s eyes.

Dr. Cullen— Jonas, Matteo reminded himself— and his wife were in the kitchen, which was open-plan, lead into from the front door and leading just as smoothly into the sprawling living room space, on one side of which there was a raised platform with a grand piano. Matteo raised a brow at the sight of it before looking back to the doctor and his wife.

“Matteo,” David said, “this is Hanna, and Jonas. Uh— it looks like they cooked for you?”

“Italian!” someone said behind them, and Matteo turned as Carlos barreled down the stairs— a sudden image of him throwing himself, bodily, at a grizzly bear flashed in Matteo’s mind— with a wide grin, only coming to a stop once he’d lifted himself onto the kitchen island. “Because your name’s Matteo,” he explained.

“Oh,” Matteo said, surprised, as he looked at the food— what seemed like an enormous amount of food, considering he would be the only one eating it. “Um, wow, thank you.”

Hanna smiled, this beatific smile that seemed inordinate to his less-than-stellar display of gratitude.

“We’re so happy to have you, Matteo,” she said.

Matteo grinned and blushed, glancing at David, who was staring at the floor, clearly trying not to smile.

“Thanks,” Matteo said again.

Carlos hopped down from the counter and stuck out his hand, nearly jabbing Matteo in the chest. “I’m Carlos.”

Matteo shook it. “Yeah, hey. Nice to, um, actually meet you.”

“Where’s Amira?” David asked, stepping forward beside Matteo now, close enough that their arms just barely brushed. Matteo took in a shaky breath.

Carlos grimaced. He shrugged. “Sorry, bro.” He glanced at Matteo and away again. “She’ll come around.”

David sighed and led Matteo further into the house, sitting on a couch across from Sam and Abdi. He patted the spot beside him, and Matteo sat, too.

Matteo looked over his shoulder to the piano. “Does someone play?” he asked.

“David didn’t tell you?” Sam asked.

Matteo raised a brow and shook his head. He gave David a playfully accusatory look. “You holding out on me?”

David rolled his eyes. “I’m no Mozart,” he said. He cleared his throat and tugged uncomfortably on his sleeve. “But, um, yeah, I play.”

“He composes, too,” Sam said. David glared at her.

Matteo gaped. “You _compose?_ ” He blew out a puff of breath. “You’re even more pretentious than I thought.”

Sam cackled delightedly, Abdi laughing, too, beside her, as David whacked Matteo with a pillow.

“I am exactly as pretentious as I ought to be,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, petulant. “I _am_ a newborn vampire, after all.” He quirked a brow at Matteo, amusement dancing behind his eyes. “ _You’ve_ seen _Interview with the Vampire._ ”

“I— What! You? I—”

David laughed. He leaned in close to whisper in Matteo’s ear. “You carved Louis + Lestat into your bedside table.”

Matteo’s face went hot, almost as much from the proximity and David’s breath on his face as from the words he was saying.

He smacked David back with the same pillow. “I hate you.”

“Food’s ready!” Hanna called.

Matteo leaned into David’s side. “Are they just gonna… watch me eat?” he whispered. Sam trilled a laugh, and Abdi chuckled beside her. Matteo’d forgotten about the whole superpowers thing. Evidently there was no point whispering in this house.

David smiled and took his hand as he stood. Matteo felt himself blushing again.

“Matteo’s gonna eat in my room,” David announced. Hanna just nodded and handed him a plate stacked high with food.

“I hope you like it,” she said to Matteo, her eyes going soft around the edges again. “It’s been a while since any of us have cooked.”

“It looks delicious, thank you.” He smiled back at her and let David pull him upstairs. The walls were lined with photographs— they looked like the ancestral photos some older people keep in their homes of grandmothers and great great grandmothers of years past, but Matteo knew, without even looking too closely, that all these photos were of the family, themselves. A little shudder traveled up his spine, and David glanced over his shoulder, catching Matteo’s gaze. He gave him a little grin and tugged him toward the first door on the right at the landing.

David’s room looked like those photos you see of creative genius’s workspaces; there were notebooks and sketchpads and thick novels everywhere; one wall was just a bookshelf, another was all CDs. Most notably, though, was what was lacking.

Matteo had gone first into the room. Now, he looked back at David, and raised a questioning brow. “There’s no bed,” he said.

David nodded. “I don’t sleep,” he reminded him.

Matteo turned around again. “Yeah, but it’s… a _bed_ room.” He moved toward the couch and flopped down on it. “Don’t you ever just… lay down?”

David did so, on the couch, so his head landed in Matteo’s lap. Matteo stared down at him, frozen in place with wide eyes. “That’s what this is for,” David said, patting the couch.

Matteo shook his head, both as a response and to center himself. “It’s not the same, though,” he said. “Bedrooms should have beds.”

“OK,” David said. “I’ll get one, then.”

Matteo blinked at him. “What, just like that?”

“My boyfriend wants me to get a bed, I’ll get a bed.”

Matteo shoved him. David grinned and sat up, leaning on his elbow close to Matteo’s face.

“You make me sound like a pervert,” Matteo said. “I was just saying—” He paused, and watched David slowly grin as his own expression surely transformed to shock. “Your… boyfriend?”

“Too soon?” David asked.

Matteo smiled wide and closed his eyes, pressing his face into the couch. He shook his head. “You’re the worst.”

He could hear the frown in David’s voice when he spoke. “It is too soon.”

Matteo shook his head again, pressing his face into David’s chest, this time. David froze, then slowly lifted his arms to surround Matteo. He squeezed him close.

“I’m your boyfriend if you want me to be,” Matteo said.

“Do _you_ want to be?”

“I’ve literally never wanted anything more.”

Matteo couldn’t see David’s face, but he could feel that he was smiling.

Blushing furiously, Matteo pushed away from David and up off the couch. He went to the picture window, staring out at the trees. “Your family’s nice,” he said.

“You haven’t eaten the food they made for you.”

“Oh! Right!” Matteo turned, and sat down on the floor as David held the plate out to him. He twirled his fork through the pasta and grinned up at David. He took a huge bite and spoke with his mouth full. David just smiled, shaking his head at him. “So does everyone in your family read minds?”

David shook his head. “That’s just me.”

“Really?” Matteo swallowed and filled his fork again. “So do they like… have… other powers?”

“Some of them,” David said. “It depends on what you classify as a ‘power,’ I guess. We all have… heightened… abilities, and depending on who we were before we were… this, we have different strengths.”

Matteo nodded, trying not to look quite as fascinated as he felt. He felt like he was at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, or the Umbrella Academy. He couldn’t believe he was seriously talking about _superpowers_ with someone who _had_ them.

“Do any of them have, like, conventional powers, though, like yours? I mean, like, stuff I would know about?”

David pressed a hand over his mouth, still sitting on the couch. He was obviously hiding a grin. He didn’t say anything for a long beat.

“What?” Matteo asked, finally, baffled by his expression.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” David said.

“Overwhelm me,” Matteo said, fast. “Please.”

David raised a brow. Matteo closed his eyes and groaned. “I… didn’t mean for that to sound as dirty as it did.”

David just laughed. He dropped his hand. “Sam can see the future,” he said, all nonchalant, as if he was saying that his sister was bilingual, or really good at math, or something. Matteo froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, which hung open like a cartoon character.

He put his fork down and shook his head. “You’re joking,” he said.

David just shook his head.

“No way,” Matteo said. “No _way._ ”

David nodded.

“She— that’s— _how? What?_ No way. That’s impossible!”

David shrugged. “So are vampires, right?”

Matteo stared at the floor. He looked up at David. “Did she see me coming?”

David frowned, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Her visions are… subjective. They’re based on choices people make. If you change your mind, the future is subject to change, too.”

Matteo shook his head, floored. He stared down at his food, but he didn’t think he could eat anymore. It wasn’t that this news was upsetting, he didn’t feel sick, exactly. But it was… well, maybe David had been right. He felt… a little overwhelmed.

“Abdi’s an empath,” David offered. “Other than that, the rest of my family’s ‘powers’ are… less comic book-y.”

“An empath?” Matteo frowned, sort of relieved for the distraction. The _future_ was so huge as to be too much to imagine. The idea that Sam could _see_ it was… a lot. “Like… he can read auras, or whatever?”

“Moods,” David said. “Emotions. Yeah. He can feel what other people are feeling. But not just that. He can… effect them.”

Matteo quirked his head. “What do you mean?”

“He can sort of… nudge you. Into feeling… something else.”

Matteo stared. “That’s…”

“It sounds bad, I know,” David said. “But he doesn’t use it for— you know, anything… well, he doesn’t use it very much at all, really. Sometimes he’ll deescalate violence, if he sees it. And he’ll help us calm down, if we ask him.” David looked down at his feet. “He’s… helped me a lot.” He shrugged. “But he doesn’t really use it much on people he doesn’t know. He thinks it’s not his place.”

Matteo grinned. “He’s like a human anxiety med.”

David laughed. “Not human, but, yeah, you could say that.”

“That’s kind of awesome.”

David nodded. “It definitely has its perks.”

Matteo pushed his plate away and leaned back on his elbows. “So you all live here together?”

David nodded again. “We moved here just a couple years ago— well, _they_ came _back_ here, basically around when I…” he trailed off. “But they used to live here, years ago. For some decades. They’ve lived a lot of places, though.”

Matteo nodded in understanding. “You said Jonas… changed them?”

David nodded. “Most of us. I guess I misspoke before— he didn’t change Sam or Abdi. They joined the family later. I mean, earlier than me, obviously.” He shrugged. “Everything I know about my family… it feels like I read some historical figures’ diaries, you know? Like, I know the basic facts. But it all feels…”

“Unreal?”

David nodded.

“I can relate,” Matteo said, grinning. David laughed.

“Yeah. I still don’t understand how you’re just… going with all this.”

“Well, it must have been the same for you, right? When you met Jonas? And when you were changed.” Matteo blew out a puff of breath. “That must have been…”

“Unreal,” David agreed. “Yeah. Honestly, I’m still kind of… in the adjustment period. I guess. You don’t really… get used to it. Overnight.”

Matteo stood and sat down beside David, again, on the couch. He rested his head on David’s shoulder. “Tell me about it,” he said.

So David did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't rly decided definitively, but i'm probably not going to go much into the family's backstories, just bc it feels like exposition which was intended for a series rather than just the first book, and also bc like... im not rly changing a lot about it (except abdi/jasper LOL just assume he was NOT a confederate soldier, even if i never say anything else about him), so i feel like it'd just feel redundant. i hope this doesnt disappoint anyone, i know the backstories are super fun (personally kind of my favorite part of the series), and i havent totally decided whether they'll be absent entirely, they just dont feel super necessary or like something i could give that much of an original spin on, at least rn. just letting yall know in case youre waiting for that   
> ty for reading!!! <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI

“Matteo? That you?”

“Yeah, dad,” Matteo called back, heading towards the stairs.

“Come in here a minute, will you?”

Matteo groaned internally. Rationally there was no reason to think that Charlie would know Matteo had a boyfriend innately the second he got one, but parents read your mind like that, sometimes— even Renee did, on occasion. He had a feeling he was about to get a _talk_ , if not _the_ talk, and he wasn’t looking forward to it, to say the least.

When he went into the living room, though, and saw Charlie, standing stiff and ramrod straight in front of the mantel, looking not at any of the pictures of Matteo, or even of his sad photos with Renee, but straight into the grate, at the bed of caked-up ashes wet from rain, Matteo stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t even see his dad’s face, yet, but he knew, already, that something was wrong.

Charlie looked over his shoulder at him. “Where you been?” he asked. It wasn’t accusatory. His eyes gave it away. He was scared.

Matteo panicked. Did he know something? How could he have possibly found out? Why would he be just standing there, if he had?

“At a friend’s,” Matteo said.

“You don’t go anywhere anymore without telling me. All right?”

“Dad, what’s—”

“Now— don’t worry, Matteo, all right? There’s no— no need to panic. And don’t tell any of your friends about this, all right? We can’t have Forks High— well— this isn’t gossip, OK?”

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Matteo’s heart thudded in his chest and he found it suddenly difficult to swallow.

“We found…” Charlie turned away from him again, like he couldn’t bare to say it— whatever it was— while looking in his son’s eyes. “Two more bodies.”

Matteo went wide-eyed and slack-jawed. “ _Whoa._ You mean— besides Waylon—”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, his voice rough. Matteo had almost forgotten about his father’s grief. He felt bad, now— it was obviously still weighing on him. Of course it was— it was recent, still. “Besides. Two others.” He turned around again. “So I want you to— to report where you are at all times to me, all right? And no traipsing around in the woods, I mean it this time. You drive. Anywhere you need to go, you _drive_ there, and you don’t get out until you’re right outside. And—” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little black cylindrical thing. He held it out to Matteo, insistent and trembling just the slightest amount, just enough that Matteo could see it. “Take this. Carry it on you. I’ll show you how to use it tonight, all right?”

It was pepper spray. Matteo cleared his throat and shoved it in his own pocket. “Yeah. Um, OK.” He wanted to get away, up to his room, to call or text David, maybe ask him to come over— through the window, of course— to find out if he knew anything about this.

“And don’t—” Charlie sighed. “I don’t want to scare you, Matteo. But I’m… not so sure it was an animal, anymore. So I just want you to be careful. You know— kindergarten rules, all right? As far as… strangers. At least for now.”

Matteo stared at him. He nodded once and spun on his heel, dashing away.

With his bedroom door closed behind him, he pulled himself up against his headboard and pressed down on David’s number. He answered on the first ring, with a smile in his voice.

“Hey, boyfriend.”

Matteo bit back his own smile and huffed a little sigh. “Quit it. Um, so, I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I figure this is different— I mean, I figure that your family— I just think probably— well I wanted to ask, anyway—”

“Matteo. You’re rambling.”

“Right. I just— I just talked to Charlie.”

David paused. “Oh?” He sounded stiffer now, a little concerned, or on edge. “He… doesn’t approve?”

“What? Oh. _No._ I mean, no, I didn’t talk to him about— he’s chief of police.”

“I’m aware.”

“Well, so, he told me something.”

David left a pause. It was different this time.

“He told you… what?”

“They found something.”

“Matteo, _what?_ ”

Matteo licked his lips, suddenly antsy for a joint. “Um. Well. Some _one_ , I should say. Two someones. They found bodies. Two of them. Besides Waylon Forge.”

David took in an audible breath and didn’t say anything for a long moment. “And you… thought…”

“No,” Matteo said. “No, David, I didn’t. Seriously. I just thought— maybe it’s someone else. Someone like you. I mean, it _could_ be a bear.”

David paused again. “You’re right,” he said, finally. “It… could be.”

“A bear?”

“Someone… like me.” He sighed. “I’ll… talk to Jonas.”

“Right. OK, cool.”

“Not exactly the word I would use.”

“Um, right.”

David huffed a laugh. Then it was gone, as suddenly as it’d came. “Are you all right? Are you safe?”

“I’m fine. I’m at home.”

“Maybe I should come over.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. What if it _is_ someone like me?”

“I don’t think they’re gonna break into my house.”

David sighed. “You’re just… you’re so…”

“Charming? Witty? Sexy?”

“Breakable.”

“Kinky.”

_“Matteo.”_

“I’m not, I swear, OK? I’ve never even broken a bone. I’m like a Nokia phone.”

“You’re too young to even remember those.”

“OK, two-year-old vampire, so are you.”

“Shut up.”

“Just because I’m not literally indestructible doesn’t mean I have, like, particularly high odds of getting struck down at any given moment, OK? You don’t need to babysit me.”

“Is that what you’d call it?”

“What would you call it?”

“What would I call being alone with you in your bedroom?”

Matteo blushed and swallowed, wishing David was beside him so he could smack him. “Well, we’re never really alone,” Matteo said.

“Because the Lord is watching?”

“And Jeff Bezos.”

“I’ll talk to Jonas,” David said. “If he knows anything… I’ll let you know.”

“OK. I mean, great.”

“I’m… sorry, Matteo.”

“What? What for?”

“You shouldn’t even be thinking about this,” David said. “You’re a teenager. You should be… worrying about homework. And girls.”

“Uh, I’m gay, David.”

“I just meant, like, _high school._ ”

“Dude, you’re insufferable. You know you’re a teenager too, right? Like, across the board?”

“You know what I mean.”

“David… people died. My dad told me about it. That would have happened regardless of you.”

He was quiet. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean, _maybe?_ ”

He was quiet again. “I’ll see you soon.” And he hung up.

Matteo dropped his phone on the duvet beside him with a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

But he _was_ unsettled. It was true that it wasn’t David’s fault— but people were dying. People were _dead._ And it might be _vampires_ that did it. Because vampires were _real_. And they killed people. David didn’t. His family didn’t. But most of them did.

He thought about David’s words in the skate park. _Not yet._

Matteo had been so sure that David’s own self-doubt was unfounded. That _yet_ was just a precaution, a blanket David wore because he hadn’t totally accepted who he was now. But maybe it was just that death— murder— was real to David. His family had killed people. Matteo didn’t know the details, but— it was more real, to David, than it was to Matteo. And now, in the face of three dead bodies in Forks, Washington, of all places, it was becoming real to Matteo, too. How could he say for sure what David would or wouldn’t do, down the line? He was capable of killing. Physically, if nothing else. More than capable. He was built for it. Could Matteo just ignore that? _Should_ he?

But David hadn’t killed these people. And when it came down to it, it might not have been any vampire at all that did. People could be monsters, too. It was all about nature. And choice.

David wouldn’t choose that. So why did Matteo still feel afraid?

It was just that… somehow, Matteo could feel that this… changed things. He felt that same queasy twisting in his stomach that he did in Phoenix, when he was outed. That tomorrow wouldn’t be like today. That today, and yesterday, and every day before it, was a marked _before._ And he was stuck from here on out in the _after._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO S O R R Y   
> ACCIDENTAL HIATUS   
> A SEASON AND A HALF OF DRUCK HAVE COME OUT SINCE MY LAST UPDATE... I'M SCREAMING  
> anygays <3 i have officially abandoned the plot of twilight. or have i? i have. or have i???? stay tuned (I PROMISE IT WON'T BE ANOTHER SIX MONTHS LDGKHSDLKGH)
> 
> FATOU FOREVER <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes it's 4AM and you make a decision and you go "maybe I should deliberate on this tomorrow before acting on it" and then you don't bc it's 4AM and everyone's a beautiful genius at 4AM. 
> 
> 4AM presents:

The first dead body David saw was his neighbor’s. It was an open-casket funeral; he was eight years old, and he cried for about ten minutes and then went outside and played jacks with his cousin. They were laughing by the time the adults came to get them.

The second dead body David saw was his own.

The first thing he said after dying was, “I thought vampires couldn’t see themselves in mirrors.”

David drove to the police station after hanging up with Matteo and scanned the minds of cops inside until he found what he was looking for. The locations where they’d found the two bodies. He pulled out of the lot and onto the main road, but abandoned his car at a trailhead; it was quicker getting anywhere just to run. The forest floor made no noise under his feet; he was, as ever, the perfect predator. He stopped short when he came to the image from one cop’s mind, and scented the air like a hound. That’d been one of the strangest changes for him, at first. As a human, he’d had a terrible sense of smell.

It was as it should be in the air there, for the most part. Fir, sap, wet earth and animal. But there was something familiar, natural but different. He would have hated to think it, in those first days. Hated that he could point it out— skin. Not human, but close. Vampires had been here. Tidy eaters, apparently. There was no trace of blood left behind— if there had been, David would have hardly smelled anything else.

He could go to the other site, but he knew he didn’t need to. He went back to retrieve his car, and drove it home. Sam was waiting for him by the door.

“You saw?”

She nodded. “I haven’t told the others.”

He nodded back and led the way inside.

Jonas grinned at his entrance, opening his mouth in warm greeting before he read David’s expression and his face fell. “What is it?” Hanna, on her phone beside him, looked up at the concern in his voice.

“Our suspicions were right,” David said. “About Waylon Forge.”

Jonas’s face went dark and a breathy little sound escaped Hanna in a rush.

“I’m sure they’re just nomads,” Sam said, putting a hand on David’s arm. “It’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”

“How many?” Jonas asked.

“I don’t know. I only picked up one scent, but they could hunt separately, and you know my nose isn’t as good as yours or Amira’s—”

“How many people, David,” Jonas said. “How many people have died?”

David grimaced. “Three. Waylon Forge included.”

Jonas’s face was cool and collected, but half the reason he and David got so close so fast was the simple fact that Jonas couldn’t keep things from him like he could from the others. He played the playful, temperate leader with the others, but David knew the mess that was his mind. Now, it was flooded with horrors abounding— memories, David knew, and yet his imaginings were so vivid sometimes David couldn’t tell them apart. Jonas could always come up with a worst-case-scenario unlike anyone else.

The third dead body David ever saw was in Jonas’s head. He wasn’t afraid, waking up as what he was, until that moment. Jonas got it all wrong, trying to soothe him— “I know. I’m sorry. I promise you get used to it— and I’ll be here.”

“No,” David said. “What was that? _Who_ was that?”

When they’d finally figured out what was going on— what David could do, now— he eventually found out that it’d been Jonas’s first and only victim that he’d seen in his head that first day. Jonas told him— unintentionally or not— that he thought of them every time he turned someone. Every time he tasted human blood.

“We’ll find them,” Jonas said. “Whoever they are. We’ll talk to them.”

“I’m sure they’ll have moved on by now,” Hanna said, half soothing, half agitated. “Three people in such a small area— they have to have moved on by now. The Volturi—”

Jonas nodded and squeezed her hand. “I’m sure you’re right. We’ll just make sure.” He met David’s eyes, and Sam’s. David looked at her, too, but not to see her expression— only because he found himself slipping into her head, as she slipped into a vision.

“They’re still here,” Sam said, just as David said, “They haven’t moved on.”

“Not—” Hanna tapped her phone nervously against her knee. “You didn’t see—”

“We’ll stop it,” David said. “The future’s not set in stone.”

They had to stop it. He couldn’t see, in Sam’s vision, who the next victim was. Only theskin of their neck, probably pale, usually, but red, in that captured moment— flushed with blood.

It could have been him. It could have been Matteo.

“I’ll be in my room,” he said, and raced upstairs before the others could possibly respond.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Matteo’s contact. He wanted to text him— call him— but it was past four in the morning, and even Matteo was usually asleep by now. He didn’t want to disturb him. He could just go over— just to check— but he knew he shouldn’t give in to that impulse; it was a slippery slope to letting himself become a full-on gothic-novel romantic nightmare-hero and/or plain old every day stalker. He paced his room, instead, until he worried he might wear through the wood of the floor and create a less-than-convenient opening between his room and the one below. Finally he collapsed on the couch and pressed his face into a cushion, letting out a quiet little scream into the soft material before falling forward, his face landing in an open book. He thought just then that Matteo was right— really it’d be nice to have a bed in here. He’d like to have somewhere to sprawl out and bemoan his numerous, ever-growing woes.

Like the fact that his boyfriend was alive. Breathing, warm, pumping blood through his veins like air conditioning flowing smoothly through vents. Vulnerable.

He threw a hand over his eyes and tried to comfort himself with empty locutions. One stuck, after a while. That of course it could be worse. It could always be worse.

Matteo could be dead, too. At least as long as Matteo was assailable, he was human. There were, after all, fates worse than death. Or else why would that phrase exist at all?

_I told you, didn’t I?_

David lifted his head to meet Amira’s gaze, but she wasn’t even in the room. She was thinking at him from somewhere else in the house. He huffed a sigh. How very typical of her not to let him even respond.

Of course he complained too soon, as she almost immediately stepped out of the hallway and into his door frame, leaning against it with one raised brow as the sunlight streaming in danced off her glittering skin and her golden hijab alike.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, though of course he did, because she was shouting it at him internally.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” she said. “I told you _he_ was a bad idea.”

“Matteo’s not an idea,” David said, letting his head fall down again. “He’s a human being.”

“Exactly the issue at hand.”

He waved her off with one hand, grabbing at the nearest journal with the other.

“You can’t moody-poetry this one away, David,” she said. “You know I’m right. You knew it from the beginning— that’s why you left.”

“I left so I wouldn’t kill him in the middle of bio.”

She was silent, out loud. Her mind was anything but, and David cringed away from it. She was wrong. He knew she had his best interests at heart— she always prioritized him, all of them, over anyone else. Over all of humanity, if need be. David felt the same, most of the time. But she didn’t get this. She couldn’t read his mind, as he could hers, and see how exactly what he felt for Matteo resembled what she felt for Carlos, that day she found him dying in the woods. Nothing would have convinced her she made the wrong decision, there. And nothing would convince David.

The smell came back to him, of skin in the air. Of a killer who might otherwise have eyes like his.

Almost nothing could convince him he’d made the wrong choice, coming back. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MIDNIGHT SUN????????????? IS THAT U?????? no its not bc i still havent read past the part that initially leaked dlghdlkghg anyways pls leave me comments i want to know what y'all think

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi [on tumblr](http://shesarealphony.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> [fic post](http://shesarealphony.tumblr.com/post/190130076390/dusk-by-zeldasayre-me-f-it-twilight-au)


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